V 


Ufa 


1h,  l-ljold  on!"    "0,  yeez  needn't  be  afear'J 

i hat— I'm  howldin'  yt-ez  tight  as  a  divil !'  —1'uye,  j~l. 


"  Are  you  de  man  advertised  for  de  dogs,  sa-a-ay  ?  You  needn't  be  afraid  o'  dem ;  come  a'here. 
lay  down,  Baity— day's  de  dogs,  mister,  rot  you  read  of!"  "Ain't  they  rathar  fierce,"  re 
sponded  the  rural  sportsman,  eyeing  the  ugly  brutes.  "  Fierce  ?  Better  believe  dey  are— show 
em  a  f-f-ight,  if  you  want  to  see  'em  go  in  for  de  chances !  You  want  to  see  der  teeth  ?"— Page.  136. 


THE 


HUMORS   OF  FALCONBRIDGE: 


A    COLLECTION    OF 


HUMOEOUS  AND  EYEEY  DAY  SCENES. 


JONATHAN  F.  KELLEY. 


T.  13   PETERSON,  No.  102  CHESTNUT  STREET. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 
T.    B.    PETERSON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  the 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania, 


ISAAC    S.  CLOUGH,  ESQ., 

OF     MASSACHUSETTS, 

AS  A  SLIGHT  TOKEN  OF  MY  REGARDS   FOR  YOUR  JUST 
APPRECIATION  OF  A  GOOD  THING, 

AS    WELL   AS    FOR 

YOUR  RARE  GOOD  SOCIAL  WIT  AND  AGREEABLE  QUALITIES; 

AND    MORE    THAN    ALL. 

FOR  YOUR  GENEROUS   SPIRIT  AND  WELL-TESTED  FRIENDSHIP, 

I   DO   WITH   SINCERE    PLEASURE, 

unto  |>ou  tfjte  Volum  of 


FRATERNALLY  YOURS, 

FALCONBRIDGE. 


A    BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH 


OF   THE  LATE 


JONATHAN    F.   KELLY. 


THE  life  of  a  literary  man  offers  but  few  points  upon  which  even 
the  pens  of  his  professional  brethren  can  dwell,  with  the  hope  of 
exciting  interest  among  that  large  and  constantly  increasing  class 
who  have  a  taste  for  books.  The  career  of  the  soldier  may  be 
colored  by  the  hues  of  romantic  adventure ;  the  politician  may 
leave  a  legacy  to  history,  which  it  would  be  ingratitude  not  to 
notice ;  but  what  triumphs  or  matters  of  exciting  moment  can 
reasonably  be  hoped  for  in  the  short  existence  of  one  who  has 
merely  been  a  writer  for  the  press  ?  After  death  has  stilled  the 
pulses  of  a  generous  man  such  as  Mr.  Kelly  was,  it  is  with  small 
anticipation  of  rendering  a  satisfactory  return,  that  any  one  can 
undertake  to  sketch  the  principal  events  of  his  life. 

It  is,  perhaps,  a  matter  for  felicitation  that  Mr.  Kelly  has  been 
his  own  autobiographer.  His  narratives  and  recitals  are  nearly 
all  personal.  They  are  mostly  the  results  of  his  own  observation 

(21) 


22  A   BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 

and  experience ;  and  those  who,  in  accordance  with  a  practice  we 
fear  now  too  little  attended  to,  read  the  Preface  before  the  body 
of  the  work,  will,  we  trust,  understand  that  the  stories  in  which 
"  Falconbridge"  claims  to  have  been  an  actor,  are  to  be  received 
with  as  much  confidence  as  truthful  accounts,  as  if  some  Boswell 
treasured  them  up  with  care,  and  minutely  detailed  them  for  the 
admiration  of  those  who  should  follow  after  him. 

Jonathan  F.  Kelly  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  on  the  14th  day  of 
August,  A.  D.  1817.  Young  Jonathan  was,  at  the  proper  age, 
placed  at  school,  where  he  acquired  the  rudiments  of  a  plain 
English  education,  sufficient  to  enable  him,  with  the  practice  and 
experience  to  be  gained  in  the  world,  to  improve  the  advantages 
derived  from  his  tuition.  He  was,  while  yet  a  boy,  placed  for 
a  time  in  a  grocery  store,  and  subsequently  was  employed  by 
Lewis  W.  Glenn,  a  perfumer,  whose  place  of  business  was  then 
in  Third  street  above  Walnut. 

In  1837,  Jonathan,  being  of  the  age  of  nineteen  years,  deter 
mined  to  go  out  into  the  world  to  seek  adventure  and  fortune. 
He  accordingly  set  out  for  that  great  region  to  which  attention 
was  then  turned— the  Western  country.  Having  but  slight 
means  to  pay  the  expenses  of  traveling,  he  walked  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  journey.  At  Chillicothe,  in  Ohio,  his  wanderings 
were  for  a  time  ended.  The  exposure  to  which  he  had  been  sub 
jected,  caused  a  very  severe  attack  of  pleurisy.  It  happened 
most  fortunately  for  him  that  a  kind  farmer,  Mr.  John  A.  Harris, 
pitied  the  boy ;  whose  sprightliness,  social  accomplishments,  and 
good  conduct,  had  made  a  favorable  impression.  He  was  taken  into 


A  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH.  23 

Mr.  Harris'  family,  and  assiduously  nursed  during  an  indisposi 
tion  which  lasted  more  than  two  months.  This  circumstance 
appeased  his  roving  disposition  for  a  time,  and  he  remained  upon 
the  farm  of  his  good  friend,  Mr.  Harris,  for  two  years,  making 
himself  practically  acquainted  with  the  life  and  toils  of  an  agri 
culturist.  In  1839,  he  concluded  to  return  to  Philadelphia,  where 
he  remained  for  a  time  with  his  family.  But  the  spirit  of  adven 
ture  returned.  He  connected  himself  with  a  theatrical  company, 
and  traveling  through  Delaware,  Maryland,  and  Virginia,  was 
finally  checked  in  his  career  at  Pittsburg,  where  he  undertook 
the  management  of  a  hotel.  This  business  not  being  congenial, 
he  soon  sold  out  the  establishment,  and  returned  to  Philadelphia. 
He  shortly  afterwards  started  away  on  a  theatrical  tour,  which 
extended  through  most  of  the  Southern  States,  and  into  Texas. 
In  this  tour,  Mr.  Kelly  went  through  a  great  variety  of  adven 
tures,  saw  many  strange  scenes,  and  obtained  a  fund  of  amusing 
experience,  which  afterward  served  him  to  great  advantage  in 
his  literary  sketches.  After  having  thoroughly  exhausted  his 
roving  desires,  he  returned  to  Philadelphia,  where,  indeed,  upon 
his  previous  visit,  he  had  become  subject  to  a  new  attraction, 
the  most  powerful  which  could  be  found  to  restrain  his  wandering 
impulses.  He  had  become  acquainted  with  a  worthy  young  lady, 
to  whom,  upon  his  return,  and  in  the  year  1842,  he  was  married. 
This  union  changed  the  thoughts  and  objects  of  Mr.  Kelly. 
His  wild,  bachelor  life  was  over ;  and  he  seriously  considered  how 
it  was  possible  for  him  who  had  been  educated  to  no  regular  busi 
ness,  to  find  the  means  of  support  for  himself  and  family.  Believing 


24  A  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 

himself  to  have  some  literary  capacity,  he  was  induced  to  go  to 
Pittsburg,  in  order  to  commence  a  newspaper  in  partnership  with 
U.  J.  Jones.  This  enterprise  was  not  a  successful  one,  and  with 
his  companion  he  went  to  Cincinnati,  where  he  enlisted  in  another 
newspaper  speculation.  The  result  of  that  attempt  was  equally 
unpropitious.  Dissolving  their  interests,  Mr.  Kelly  then  removed 
with  his  family  to  New  York.  Here  he  commenced  a  journal  de 
voted  to  theatrical  and  musical  criticism,  and  intelligence,  entitled 
"  The  Archer."  Mr.  J.  W.  Taylor  was  a  partner  with  him  in  the 
publication.  The  twain  also  engaged  in  the  fancy  business,  having 
a  store  in  Broadway,  above  Grand  street.  The  adventure  there 
not  being  very  successful,  the  partnership  in  that  branch  of  their 
concern  was  dissolved,  and  Mr.  Kelly  commenced  a  book  and 
periodical  store  nearly  opposite.  This  was  about  the  year  1844. 
"The  Archer"  was  soon  after  discontinued,  and  Mr.  K.  returned 
to  Philadelphia.  About  this  time  he  commenced  writing  contri 
butions  for  various  newspapers,  under  the  signature  of  "Fal- 
conbridge."  His  essays  in  this  line,  which  were  published  in  the 
"New  York  Spirit  of  the  Times,"  were  received  with  much  favor, 
and  widely  copied  by  the  press  throughout  the  country.  The 
reputation  thus  attained,  was  such  that  he  found  himself  in  a 
fair  way  to  make  a  lucrative  and  pleasant  livelihood.  His 
sketches  were  in  demand,  and  were  readily  sold,  whilst  the  prices 
were  remunerative,  and  enabled  him  to  attain  a  degree  of  do 
mestic  comfort  which  he  had  before  that  time  not  known.  From 
Philadelphia  he  removed  to  Boston,  where  he  hoped  to  find  per 
manent  employment  as  an  editor.  During  six  months  he  relied 


A  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH.  25 

upon  the  sale  of  Ms  sketches,  and  again  returned  to  New  York, 
from  which  he  was  recalled  by  an  advantageous  offer  from 
Paige  &  Davis,  if  he  would  undertake  the  control  of  "The  Bos- 
tonian."  He  filled  the  editorial  chair  of  that  paper  for  two  years, 
when  it  was  discontinued.  He  had  now  plenty  to  do,  and  was 
constantly  engaged  upon  sketches  for  the  "Yankee  Blade," 
"The  N.  Y.  Spirit  of  the  Times,"  and  many  other  journals  and 
magazines,  adopting  the  signatures,  "  Falconbridge,"  "Jack  Hum 
phries,"  "  0.  K.,"  "  Cerro  Gordo,"  "  J.  F.  K.,"  etc.  During  this 
time  he  projected  "  The  Aurora  Borealis,"  which  was  published 
in  Boston.  It  was  really  one  of  the  most  handsome  and  humor 
ous  journals  ever  commenced  in  the  United  States,  but  it  was 
very  expensive.  After  some  mouths'  trial,  "  The  Aurora  Borealis" 
was  abandoned.  Mr.  Kelly  remained  in  Boston  as  a  general 
literary  contributor  to  various  journals  until,  in  1851,  he  was  in 
duced  to  undertake  the  management  of  a  paper  at  Waltham, 
Mass.,  entitled  "  The  Waltham  Advocate."  This  enterprise, 
after  six  months  trial,  did  not  offer  sufficient  inducements  to 
continue  it,  and  Mr.  Kelly  returned  with  his  family  to  Boston. 
Whilst  in  that  city,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  eldest  son, 
a  fine  promising  boy  about  five  years  and  four  months  old ;  he 
died  after  a  sickness  of  between  two  and  three  days.  Mr.  Kelly 
was  a  kind  and  excellent  husband,  and  affectionate  father.  Ho 
doted  on  his  child ;  and  the  loss  so  preyed  upon  his  spirits,  that 
it  produced  a  brooding  melancholy,  which  he  predicted  would 
eventually  cause  his  death.  After  this  time,  General  Samuel 
Houston,  of  Texas,  made  him  very  advantageous  and  liberal  offers 


26  A   BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 

if  he  would  establish  himself  in  that  State.  He  left  Boston  for 
the  purpose,  but  was  detained  in  Philadelphia  by  the  sickness  of 
another  favorite  child.  Whilst  thus  delayed,  a  proposal  was 
made  him  to  undertake  the  editorship  of  "  The  New  York  Dutch 
man."  He  remained  in  that  position  about  four  months,  when 
still  more  advantageous  offers  were  tendered  him  to  conduct  "  The 
Great  West,"  published  at  Cincinnati.  In  September,  1854,  he 
reached  that  city,  and  entered  upon  his  duties.  He  continued  in 
the  discharge  of  them  about  four  months.  In  the  meanwhile,  he 
had  become  associated  with  the  American  party ;  and  induced  by 
those  promises  which  politicians  make  freely,  and  perform  rarely, 
he  left  the  journal  to  which  he  was  attached,  to  establish  a  paper 
entitled  "  The  American  Platform."  But  two  numbers  of  this 
effort  were  published.  Whilst  his  writings  were  lively  and  flowing, 
he  was  sick  at  heart.  The  loss  of  his  son  still  weighed  on  his 
mind,  and  he  was  an  easy  prey  to  pestilence.  He  was  attacked 
by  Asiatic  cholera;  and  died  on  the  21st  of  July,  1855,  after 
twenty-four  hours'  illness,  leaving  a  widow  and  three  children  to 
mourn  his  early  death.  His  remains  were  deposited  in  Spring 
Grove  Cemetery.  There  rests  beneath  the  soil  of  that  beautiful 
garden  of  the  dead,  no  form  whose  impulses  in  life  were  more 
honest,  generous,  and  noble,  than  those  which  guided  the  actions 
of  Jonathan  F.  Kelly. 

The  writer  of  this  short  biography,  who  only  knew  Mr.  Kelly  by 
his  litcra.ry  works,  and  whose  narrative  has  been  made  up  from  the 
information  of  friends,  feels  that  he  would  scarcely  discharge  the 
duty  he  has  assumed,  without  a  few  words  of  reflection  upon  the 


A   BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH.  27 

fitful  career  so  slightly  traced.  For  the  useful  purpose  of  life,  it 
may  well  be  doubted  whether  a  dull,  plodding  disposition  is  not 
more  certain  of  success,  than  lively,  impulsive  genius.  Perse 
verance  in  any  one  calling,  with  a  steady  determination  to  turn 
aside  for  no  collateral  inducements,  and  a  patience  which  does  not 
become  discouraged  at  the  first  disappointment,  is  necessary  to 
the  ultimate  prosperity  of  every  man.  The  newspaper  business 
is  one  which  particularly  requires  constant  application,  a  deter 
mination  to  do  the  best  in  the  present,  and  a  firm  reliance  upon 
success  in  the  future.  There  is  scarcely  a  journal  or  newspaper 
in  the  United  States,  which  has  succeeded  without  passing  through 
severe  ordeals,  whilst  the  slow  public  were  determining  whether 
it  should  be  patronized,  or  waiting  to  discover  whether  it  is  likely 
to  become  permanently  established.  Mr.  Kelly's  wanderings  in 
early  life  seem  to  have  tinctured  his  later  career  with  the  hue  of 
instability.  Ever,  it  would  seem,  ready  to  enlist  in  any  new  en 
terprise,  he  was  led  to  abandon  those  occupations,  which,  if  per 
severed  in,  would  probably  have  been  triumphant.  His  life  was  a 
constant  series  of  changes,  in  which  ill-luck  seems  to  have  contin 
ually  triumphed,  because  ill-luck  was  not  sufficiently  striven  with. 
In  all  these  mutations,  it  will  be  the  solace  of  those  who  knew  and 
loved  him,  that  however  his  judgment  may  have  led  him  astray 
from  worldly  advantage,  his  heart  was  always  constant  to  his 
family.  Affectionate  and  generous  in  disposition,  he  was  true  to 
them  ;  and  he  persevered  in  laboring  for  them  under  every  disad 
vantage.  Altering  his  position— at  times  an  editor— at  times  an 
assistant-editor — anon  changing  his  business  as  new  hopes  were 


28  A  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 

roused  in  his  bosom— and  then  being  a  mere  writer,  depending 

upon  the  sale  of  his  fugitive  sketches  for  the  means  of  support 

in  all  these  experiments  with  Fortune,  he  was  ever  true  to  the 
fond  spirit  which  gently  ruled  at  home.  For  the  great  purposes, 
and  high  moral  lessons  of  existence,  a  faithful,  constant  heart 
has  a  wealth  richer  and  more  bountiful  than  can  be  bought  with 
gold. 


CONTENTS. 


If  it  ain't  Eight,  I'll  make  it  all  Eight  in  the  Morning, 33 

Don't  you  believe  in  'em, 37 

The  old  Black  Bull, 38 

Dobbs  makes  "  a  Pint," 42 

Used  up,  43 

The  greatest  Moral  Engine, 50 

The  Story  of  Capt.  Paul, 51 

Hereditary  Complaints, 58 

Nights  with  the  Caucusers, 59 

Affecting  Cruelty, 64 

The  Wolf  Slayer, 65 

The  Man  that  knew  'em  All, 74 

A  severe  Spell  of  Sickness, 79 

The  Eace  of  the  Aldermen, 80 

Getting  Square, 85 

People  do  differ, 89 

Bill  Whiffletree's  Dental  Experience, 90 

A-a-a-in't  they  Thick  ? 9G 

A  desperate  Eace, 101 

Dodging  the  Eesponsibility, 107 

A  Night  Adventure  in  Prairie  Land, •. . . .  108 

(293 


30  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Roosting  Out, 114 

Rather  Twangy, 119 

Passing  around  the  Fodder, 120 

A  Hint  to  Soyer, 123 

The  Leg  of  Mutton, 124 

A  Chapter  on  Misers, 129 

Dog  Day, 133 

Amateur  Gardening,  • 138 

The  two  Johns  at  the  Tremont,  139 

The  Yankee  in  a  Boarding  School, 144 

A  dreadful  State  of  Excitement, 149 

Ralph  "Waldo  Emerson,  154 

Humbug, 158 

Hotel  keeping, 159 

"  According  to  Gunter," 164 

Quartering  upon  Friends, 165 

Jake  Hinkle's  Failings, 174 

What's  going  to  Happen, 176 

The  Washerwoman's  Windfall, 177 

We  don't  Wonder  at  it, 181 

Old  Maguire  and  his  Horse  Bonny  Doon, 182 

Getting  into  the  "  Right  Pew," 187 

A  circuitous  Route, 192 

Major  Blink's  first  Season  at  Saratoga, 193 

Old  Jack  Ringbolt, 198 

Who  killed  Capt.  Walker  ? 199 

Practical  Philosophy, 203 

Borrowed  Finery ;  or,  killed  off  by  a  Ballet  Girl, 204 

Legal  Advice, 209 

Wonders  of  the  Day,  213 

"Don't  know  you,  Sir!"  214 

A  circumlocutory  Egg  Pedler, 219 


CONTENTS.  31 

PAQE 

Jolly  old  Times, 223 

The  Pigeon  Express  Man, 224 

Jipson's  great  Dinner  Party, 229 

Look  out  for  them  Lobsters, 236 

The  Fitzfaddles  at  Hull, 241 

Putting  me  on  a  Platform ! 247 

The  exorbitancy  of  Meanness, 251 

"  Taking  down"  a  Sheriff, 252 

Governor  Mifflin's  First  Coal  Fire, 257 

Sure  Cure, 261 

Chasing  a  fugitive  Subscriber, 262 

Ambition,  .- 266 

Way  the  Women  fixed  the  Tale-bearer,  267 

Penalty  of  kissing  your  own  Wife, 272 

Mysteries  and  Miseries  of  Housekeeping, 274 

Miseries  of  a  Dandy, 279 

A  juvenile  Joe  Miller, 284 

"  Selling"  a  Landlord, 285 

Scientific  Labor, 288 

Who  was  that  poor  Woman  ? 289 

Infirmities  of  Nature, 293 

Andrew  Jackson  and  his  Mother, 294 

Snaking  out  Sturgeons, 299 

Mixing  Meanings — Mangling  English, 301 

Waking  up  the  wrong  Passenger, 302 

Genius  for  Business, 306 

Have  you  got  any  old  Boots  ? 307 

The  Vagaries  of  Nature, 312 

A  general  disquisition  on  "  Hinges," 317 

Miseries  of  Bachelorhood, 321 

The  Science  of  Diddling, 322 

The  re-union ;  Thanksgiving  Story, 324 


32  CONTENTS. 


PAGB 


Cabbage  vs.  Men, 330 

Wanted — A  young  Man  from  the  Country, 331 

Presence  of  Mind, 336 

The  Skipper's  Schooner,    337 

Philosophy  of  the  Times, 340 

The  Emperor  and  the  Poor  Author, 341 

The  bigger  fool,  the  better  Luck, 352 

An  active  Settlement, 356 

A  Yankee  in  a  Pork-house, 357 

German  Caution, 361 

Ben.  M'Conachy's  great  Dog  Sell, 362 

The  Perils  of  Wealth, 367 

Nursing  a  Legacy, 372 

The  Troubles  of  a  Mover, 377 

The  Question  Settled, .-. 382 

How  it's  done  at  the  Astor  House, 383 

The  Advertisement, 387 

Incidents  in  a  Fortune-hunter's  Life, 400 

A  Distinction  with  a  Difference, 408 

Pills  and  Persimmons, 409 

Mysteries  and  Miseries  of  the  Life  of  a  City  Editor, 414 

The  Tribulations  of  Incivility, 415 

The  Broomstick  Marriage, 420 

Appearances  are  Deceitful, 427 

Cigar  Smoke, 431 

An  everlasting  tall  Duel, 432 


THE 


HUMORS   OF  FALCONBRIDGE. 


|f  it  ain't  rigjft,  I'll  malu  if  all  rigjjt  m 
||lorain§ ! 

A  KEEN",  genteely  dressed, 'gentlemanly  man  "put up" at 
Beltzhoover's  Hotel;  in  Baltimore,  jb'ue;  $ay'«spjn£  years 
ago,  and  after  dining  very  sumptuously  every  day,  drinking  his 
Otard,  Margieux  and  Heidsic,  and  smoking  his  "Tras," 
"Byrons,"  and  "  Cassadoras,"  until  the  landlord  began  to 
surmise  the  "bill"  getting  voluminous,  he  made  the  clerk 
foot  it  up  and  present  it  to  our  modern  Don  Cassar  De  Bazan, 
who,  casting  his  eye  over  the  long  lines  of  perpendicularly 
arranged  figures,  discovered  that — which  in  no  wise 
alarmed  him,  however — he  was  in  for  a  matter  of  a  cool  C  ! 

"Ah  !  yes,  I  see  ;  well,  I  presume  it's  all  right,  all  correct, 
sir,  no  doubt  about  it,"  says  Don  Caesar. 

"  No  doubt  at  all,  sir,"  says  the  polite  clerk, — "  we 
seldom  present  a  bill,  sir,  until  the  gentlemen  are  about  to 
leave,  sir ;  but  when  the  bills  are  unusually  large,  sir — " 

"  Large,  sir  ?  Large,  my  dear  fellow" — says  the  Don — 
"  bless  your  soul,  you  don't  call  that  large  ?  Why,  sir,  a 

i — that  is,  when  I  was  in  Washington,  at  Gadsby's,  sir, 
2  (33) 


34  HUMORS    OF  FALCONBRIDGE. 

bless  you,  I  frequently  had  my  friends  of  the  Senate  and 
the  Ministers  to  dine  at  ray  rooms,  and  what  do  you  sup 
pose  my  bills  averaged  a  week,  there,  sir  ?" 

"  I  can't  possibly  say,  sir — must  have  counted  up  very 
heavy,  sir,  I  think,"  responds  the  clerk. 

"Heavy!  ha!  ha!  you  may  well  say  they  were  heavy, 
my  dear  fellow — five  and  eight  hundred  dollars  a  week  /" 
says  the  Don,  with  a  nonchalance  that  would  win  the  admi 
ration  of  a  flash  prince  of  the  realm. 

"0,  no  doubt  of  it,  sir;  it  is  very  expensive  to  keep 
company,  and  entertain  the  government  officers,  at  "Wash 
ington,  sir,"  the  clerk  replies. 

"  You're  right,  my  dear  fellow  ;  you're  right.  But  let 
me  see,"  and  here  the  Don  stuck  a  little  glass  in  the  corner 
of  his  eye,  and  glanced  at  the  bill ;  "ah,  yes,  I  see,  $102.51 
— a — a — something — all  right,  I  presume  ;  if  it  ain't  right, 
we'll  make  'd  all  right  ii-.thc  morning." 

"  Yery  good,  sir  ;  that  will  answer,  sir,"  says  the  clerk, 
abou^o.  bow  hiiaseir  cut  of  the  voom. 

"  One  moment,  if  you  please,  my  dear  fellow  ;  that  Mar- 
teux  of  yours  is  really  superb.  A  friend  dined  here  yester 
day  with  me — he  is  a — a  gentleman  who  imports  a — a  great 
deal  of  wine ;  he  a — a— pronounces  your  Schreider  an  ele 
gant  article.  I  shall  entertain  some  friends  to-night,  here, 
and  do  you  see  that  we  have  sufficient  of  that  '  Marteux* 
and  '  Schreider'  cooling  for  us  ;  my  friends  are  judges  of  a 
pure  article,  and  a — a  I  wish  them  to  have  a — a  good 
opinion  of  your  house.  Understand  ?" 

"Ah,  yes,  sir  ;  that'll  be  all  right,"  says  the  clerk. 

11  Of  course  ;  if  it  ain't,  I'll  make  it  all  right  in  the  morn 
ing  !"  says  the  Don  Caesar,  as  the  official  vanished. 

"Well,  Charles,  did  you  present  that  gentleman's  bill?" 
asks  the  host  of  the  clerk,  as  they  met  at  "  the  office." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  he  says  it's  all  right,  or  he'll  make  it  all  right 
in  the  morning,  sir,"  replies  the  clerk. 


I'LL   MAKE   IT   RIGHT   IN   THE   MORNING.  35 

"Yery  well,"  says  the  anxious  host;  "see  that  Tie 
does  it." 

That  evening  a  Captain  Jones  called  on  Don  Ctesar — a 
servant  carried  up  the  card. — Captain  Jones  was  requested 
to  walk  up.  Lieutenant  Smith,  TJ.  S.  N.,  next  called — 
"walk  up."  Dr.  Brown  called- — "  walk  up."  Col.  Green, 
his  card — "  walk  up  ;"  and  so  on,  until  some  six  or  eight 
distinguished  persons  were  walked  up  to  Don  Cesar's  pri 
vate  parlor;  and  pretty  soon  the  silver  necks  were  brought 
up,  corks  were  popping,  glasses  were  clinking,  jests  and 
laughter  rose  above  the  wine  and  cigars,  and  Don  Caesar 
was  putting  his  friends  through  in  the  most  approved 
style ! 

Time  flew,  as  it  always  does.  Capt.  Jones  gave  the 
party  a  bit  of  a  salt-water  song,  Dr.  Brown  pitched  in  a 
sentiment,  while  Colonel  Green  and  Lieutenant  Smith 
talked  largely  of  the  'Mast  session,"  what  their  friend 
Benton  said  to  Webster,  and  "Webster  to  Benton,  and 
what  Bill  Allen  said  to  'em  both.  And  Miss  Corsica,  the 
French  Minister's  daughter,  what  she  had  privately  inti 
mated  to  Lieutenant  Smith  in  regard  to  American  ladies, 
and  what  the  Hon.  so  and  so  offered  to  do  and  say  for 
Colonel  Green,  and  so  and  so  and  so  and  so.  Still  the 
corks  "popped,"  and  the  glasses^ingled,  and  the  merry 
jest,  and  the  laugh  jocund,  and  the  rich  sentiment,  and 
richer  fumes  of  the  cigars  filled  the  room. 

Don  Caesar  kept  on  hurrying  up  the  wine,  and  as  each" 
bottle  was  uncorked,  he  assured  the  servants — "All  right; 
if  it  ain't  all  right,  we'll  make  it  all  right  in  the  mom- 
ing!" 

And  so  Don  Caesar  and  his  bon  vivant  friends  went  it, 
until  some  two  dozen  bottles  of  Schreider,  Hock,  and 
Sherry  had  decanted,  and  the  whole  entire  party  were  get 
ting  as  merry  as  grigs,  and  so  noisy  and  rip-roarious, 
that  the  clerk  of  the  institution  came  up,  and  standing 


36  HUMORS    OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

outside  of  the  door,  sent  a  servant  to  Don  Caesar,  to  po 
litely  request  that  gentleman  to  step  out  into  the  hall  one 
moment. 

"  What's  that  ?"  says  the  Don  ;  "  speak  loud,  I've  got  a 
buzzing  in  my  ears,  and  can't  hear  whispers." 

"  Mr.  Tompkins,  sir,  the  clerk  of  the  house,  sir,"  replies 
the  servant,  in  a  sharp  key. 

"Well,  what  the  deuce  of  Tompkins — hie — what  does 
he — hie — does  he  want  ?  Tell- — hie — tell  him  it's — hie — all 
right,  or  we'll  make  it  all  right — hie — in  the  morning." 

Mr.  Tompkins  then  took  the  liberty  of  stepping  inside, 
and  slipping  up  to  Don  Caesar,  assured  him  that  himself 
and  friends  were  a  little  too  merry,  but  Don  Ca3sar  assured 
Tompkins — 

"It's  all — hie — right,  mi  boy,  all — hie — right ;  these  gen 
tlemen. — hie — are  all  gentlemen,  my — hie — personal  friends 
. — hie — and  it's  all  right — hie — all  perfectly — hie — right,  or 
we'll  make  it  all  right  in  the  morning." 

"  That  we  do  not  question,  sir,"  says  the  clerk,  "  but 
there  are  many  persons  in  the  adjoining  rooms  whom  you'll 
disturb,  sir;  I  speak  for  the  credit  of  the  house." 

"  0 — hie — certainly,  certainly,  mi  boy  ;  I'll — hie — I'll 
speak  to  the  gentlemen,"  says  the  Don,  rising  in  his  chair, 
and  assuming  a  very  solemn  graveness,  peculiar  to  men  in 
the  fifth  stage  of  libation  deep  ;  "  Gentlemen — hie — gentle 
men,  I'm  requested  to  state — hie — that — hie — a  very  serious 
piece  of  intelligence — hie — has  met  my  ear.  This  gentle- 
man — hie — says  somebody's  dead  in  the  next — hie — room." 

"Not  at  all,  sir ;  I  did  not  say  that,  sir,"  says  the  clerk. 

"Beg — hie — your  pardon,  sir — hie — it's  all  right;  if  it 
ain't  all  right,  I'll  make  it — hie — all  right  in  the  morning! 
Gentlemen,  let's — hie — us  all  adjourn  ;  let's  change  the  see 
— hie — ne,  call  a  coach — hie — somebody,  let's  take  a  ride 
. — hie — and  return  and  go  to — hie — our  pious — hie — rest." 

Having  delivered  this  order  and  exhortation,  Don  Csesar 


DON'T   YOU   BELIEVE   IN    'EM?  37 

arose  on  his  pins,  and  marshalling  his  party,  after  a  general 
swap  of  hats  all  around,  in  which  trade  big  heads  got 
smallest  hats,  and  small  heads  got  largest  hats,  by  aid  of 
the  staircase  and  the  servants,  they  all  got  to  the  street,  and 
lumbering  into  a  large  hack,  they  started  off  on  a  midnight 
airing,  noisy  and  rip-roarious  as  so  many  sailors  on  a  land 
cruise.  The  last  words  uttered  by  Don  Ca?sar,  there,  as 
the  coach  drove  off,  were  : 

"All  right — hie — mi  boy,  if  it  ain't,  we'll  make  it  all 
right  in  the  morning  /" 

"Yes,  that  we  will,"  says  the  landlord,  "and  if  I  don't 
stick  you  into  a  bill  of  costs  'in  the  morning,1  rot  me. 
You'll  have  a  nice  time,"  he  continued,  "  out  carous 
ing  till  daylight ;  lucky  I've  got  his  wallet  in  the  fire 
proof,  the  jackass  would  be  robbed  before  he  got  back, 
and  Pd  lose  my  bill  /" 

Don  Caesar  did  not  return  to  make  good  his   promise  in 
the  morning,  and  so  the  landlord  took  the  liberty  of  inves 
tigating  the  wallet,  deposited  for  safe  keeping  in  the  fire 
proof  of  the  office,  by  the   Don  ;  and  lo  !  and  behold  !  it 
contained  old  checks,  unreceipted  bills,  and  a  few  samples 

of  Brandon  bank  notes,  with  this  emphatic  remark: "All 

right,  if  it  ain't  all  right,  WE'LL  MAKE  IT  ALL  RIGHT  IN  THE 
MORNING  !" 


gijon'i  pit  kite  in  'm? 

WE  are  astounded  at  the  incredulity  of  some  people. 
Every  now  and  then  you  run  a-foul  of  somebody  who  does 
not  believe  in  spiritual  knockers.  Enter  any  of  our  drink 
ing  saloons,  take  a  seat,  or  stand  up,  and  look  on  for  an 
hour  or  two,  especially  about  the  time  "  churchyards  yawn  !" 
and  if  you  are  any  longer  skeptical  upon  the  spirit-u&\  mani 
festations  as  exhibited  in  the  knee  pans,  shoulder  joints,  and 
thickness  of  the  tongue  of  the  mediums, — education  would 
be  thrown  away  on  you. 


IT'S  poor  human  natur',  all  out,  to  wrangle  and  quarrel 
now  and  then,  from  the  kitchen  to  the  parlor,  in  church 
and  state.  Even  the  fathers  of  the  holy  tabernacle  are  not 
proof  against  this  little  weakness  ;  for  people  will  have 
passions,  people  will  belong  to  meetin',  and  people  will 
let  their  passions  rise,  even  under  the  pulpit.  But  we  have 
no  distinct  recollection  of  ever  having  known  a  misdi 
rected,  but  properly  interpreted  letter,  to  settle  a  clmckly 
"  plug  muss,"  so  efficiently  and  happily  as  the  case  we  have 
in  point. 

Old  John  Bulkley  (grandson  of  the  once  famous  Presi 
dent  Chauncey)  was  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  and  one  of 
the  best  edicated  men  of  his  day  in  the  wooden  nutmeg 
State,  when  the  immortal  (or  ought  to  be)  Jonathan  Trum- 
bull  was  "  around,"  and  in  his  youth.  Mr.  Bulkley  was  the 
first  settled  minister  in  the  towrn  of  his  adoption,  Colchester, 
Connecticut.  It  was  with  him,  as  afterwards  with  good 
old  brother  Jonathan  (Governor  Trurnbull,  the  bosom 
friend  of  General  Washington),  good  to  confer  on  almost 
any  matter,  scientific,  political,  or  religious-  —  any  subject, 
in  short,  wherein  common  sense  and  general  good  to  all  con 
cerned  was  the  issue.  As  a  philosophical  reasoner,  casuist, 
and  good  counselor,  he  was  "looked  up  to,  "and  abided  by. 

It  so  fell  out  that  a  congregation  in  Mr.  Bulkley's 
vicinity  got  to  loggerheads,  and  were  upon  the  apex  of 
raising  "the  evil  one"  instead  of  a  spire  to  their  church,  as 
they  proposed  and  split  upon.  The  very  nearest  they  could 
come  to  a  mutual  cessation  of  the  hostilities,  was  to  ap 
point  a  committee  of  three,  to  wait  on  Mr.  Bulkley,  state 
(38) 


THE   OLD   BLACK   BULL.  39 

their  case,  and  get  him  to  adjudicate.  They  waited  on  the 
old  gentleman,  and  he  listened  with  grave  attention  to  their 
conflicting  grievances. 

"It  appears  to  me,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "that  this 
is  a  very  simple  case — a  very  trifling  thing  to  cause  you  so 
much  vexation." 

"  So  I  say,"  says  one  of  the  committee. 
"  I  don't  call  it  a  trifling  case,  Mr.  Bulkley,"  said  an 
other. 

"  No  case  at  all,"  responded  the  third. 
"It  ain't,  eh  ?"  fiercely  answered  the  first  speaker. 
"No,  it  ain't,  sir  !"  quite  as  savagely  replied  the  third. 
"It's   anything    but   a   trifling    case,    anyhow,"  echoed 
number  two,  "  to  expect  to  raise  the  minister's  salary  and 
that  new  steeple,  too,  out  of  our  small  congregation." 

"  There  is  no  danger  of  raising  much  out  of  you,  anyhow, 
Mr.  Johnson,"  spitefully  returned  number  one. 

"  Gentlemen,  if  you  please — "  beseechingly  interposed 
the  sage. 

"  I  haven't  come  here,  Mr.  Bulkley,  to  quarrel,"  said  one. 
"  Who  started  this  ?"  sarcastically  answered  Mr.  John 
son. 

"  Not  me,  anyway,"  number  three  replies. 
"  You  don't  say  I  did,  do  you  ?"  says  number  one 
"  Gentlemen  ! — gentlemen  !— " 

"  Mr.  Bulkley,  you  see  how  it  is  ;  there's  Johnson—" 
"Yes,    Mr.   Bulkley,"  says   Johnson,   "and   there's  old 
Winkles,  too,  and  here's  Deacon  Potter,  also." 

"I  am  here,"  stiffly  replied  the  deacon,  "  and  I  am  sorry 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Bulkley  finds  me  in  such  company,  sir !" 
"  Now,   gentlemen,   brothers,    if   you   please,"  said  Mr. 
Bulkley,  "  this  is  ridiculous,— 

"  So  I  say,"  murmured  Mr.  Winkles. 
"  As  far  as  you  are  concerned,  it  is  ridiculous,"  said  the 
deacon. 


40  HUMORS   OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

This  brought  Mr.  "Winkles  up,  standing. 

"Sir!"  he  shouted,  "sir!" 

"But  my  dear  sirs — "  beseechingly  said  the  philosopher. 

"  Sir!"  continued  Winkles,  "sir!  I  am  too  old  a  man — 
too  good  a  Christian,  Mr.  Bulkley,  to  allow  a  man,  a  mean, 
despicable  toad,  like  Deacon  Potter — " 

"Do  you  call  me — me  a  despicable  toad?"  menacingly 
cried  the  deacon. 

"Brethren,"  said  Mr.  Bulkley,  "if  I  am  to  counsel  you 
in  your  difference,  I  must  have  no  more  of  this  unchris- 
tian-like  bickering." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  bicker,  sir,"  said  Johnson. 

"Nor  I  don't  want  to,  sir,"  said  the  deacon,  "  but  when 
a  man  calls  me  a  toad,  a  mean,  despicable  toad — " 

"Well,  well,  never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Bulkley;  "you  are 
all  too  excited  now;  go  home  again,  and  wait  patiently; 
on  Saturday  evening  next,  I  will  have  prepared  and  sent  to 
you  a  written  opinion  of  your  case,  with  a  full  and  free 
avowal  of  most  wholesome  advice  for  preserving  your  church 
from  desolation  and  yourselves  from  despair."  And  the 
committee  left,  to  await  his  issue. 

Now  it  chanced  that  Mr.  Bulkley  had  a  small  farm,  some 
distance  from  the  town  of  Colchester,  and  found  it  neces 
sary,  the  same  day  he  wrote  his  opinion  and  advice  to  the 
brethren  of  the  disaffected  church,  to  drop  a  line  to  his 
farmer  regarding  the  fixtures  of  said  estate.  Having 
written  a  long,  and  of  course,  elaborate  "  essay"  to  his 
brethren,  he  wound  up  the  day's  literary  exertions  with  a 
despatch  to  the  farmer,  and  after  a  reverie  to  himself, 
he  directs  the  two  documents,  and  next  morning  despatches 
them  to  their  several  destinations. 

On  Saturday  evening  a  full  and  anxious  synod  of  the 
belligerent  churchmen  took  place  in  their  tabernacle,  and 
punctually,  as  promised,  came  the  despatch  from  the  Plato 
of  the  .time  and  place, — l\cv.  John  Bulkley.  All  was  quiet 


THE   OLD   BLACK   BULL.  41 

and  respectful  attention.  The  moderator  took  up  the  docu 
ment,  broke  the  seal,  opened  and — a  pause  ensued,  while 
dubious  amazement  seemed  to  spread  over  the  features  of 
the  worthy  president  of  the  meeting. 

"  Well,  brother  Temple,  how  is  it — what  does  Mr.  Bulk- 
ley  say  ?"  and  another  pause  followed. 

"  Will  the  moderator  please  proceed  ?"  said  another 
voice. 

The  moderator  placed  the  paper  upon  the  table,  took  off 
his  spectacles,  wiped  the  glasses,  then  his  lips — replaced  his 
specs  upon  his  nose,  and  with  a  very  broad  grin,  said  : 

"  Brethren,  this  appears  to  me  to  be  a  very  singular  let 
ter,  to  say  the  least  of  it !" 

"  Well,  read  it— read  it,"  responded  the  wondering 
hearers. 

"  I  will,"  and  the  moderator  began  : 

"You  will  see  to  the  repair  of  the  fences,  that  they  be 
built  high  and  strong,  and  you  will  take  special  care  of 
the  old  Black  Bull" 

There  was  a  general  pause ;  a  silent  mystery  overspread 
the  community;  the  moderator  dropped  the  paper  to  a 
"rest,"  and  gazing  over  the  top  of  his  glasses  for  several 
minutes,  nobody  saying  a  word. 

"  Repair  the  fences  I"  muttered  the  moderator  at  length. 

"  Build  them  strong  and  high !"  echoed  Deacon  Potter. 

"  Take  special  care  of  the  old  Blade  Bull  /"  growled  half 
the  meeting. 

Then  another  pause  ensued,  and  each  man  eyed  his  neigh 
bor  in  mute  mystery. 

A  tall  and  venerable  man  now  arose  from  his  seat ;  clear 
ing  his  voice  with  a  hem,  he  spoke  : 

"Brethren,  you  seem  lost  in  the  brief  and  eloquent 
words  of  our  learned  adviser.  To  me  nothing  could  be 
more  appropriate  to  our  case.  It  is  just  such  a  profound 
and  applicable  reply  to  us  as  we  should  have  hoped  and 


42  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

looked  for,  from  the  learned  and  good  man,  John  Bulkley. 
The  direction  to  repair  the  fences,  is  to  take  heed  in  the 
admission  and  government  of  our  members ;  we  must  guard 
the  church  by  our  Master's  laws,  and  keep  out  stray  and 
vicious  cattle  from  the  fold  !  And,  above  all  things,  set  a 
trustworthy  and  vigilant  watch  over  that  old  black  bull, 
who  is  the  devil,  and  who  has  already  broken  into  our  en 
closures  and  sought  to  desolate  and  lay  waste  the  fair 
grounds  of  our  church  !" 

The  effect  of  this  interpretation  was  electrical.  All  saw 
and  took  the  force  of  Mr.  Bulkley's  cogent  advice,  and 
unanimously  resolved  to  be  governed  by  it;  hence  the  old 
black  bull  was  put  hors  da  combat,  and  the  church  pre 
served  its  union ! 


mate  "  a  f  ml" 

DOBBS  walked  into  a  Dry  Goodery,  on  Court  street,  and 
began  to  look  around.  A  double  jinted  clerk  immediately 
appeared  to  Dobbs. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir  ?"  says  he. 

"  A  ,^-ood  deal,"  says  Dobbs,  "but  I  bet  you  won't." 

"  I'll  bet  I  will,"  says  the  knight  of  the  yard-stick,  "  if  I 


can. 


"  What'll  you  bet  of  that  ?"  says  the  imperturbable  Dobbs.' 

"  I'll  bet  a  fourpence  !"  says  the  clerk,  with  a  cute  nod. 

"  I'll  go  it,"  says  Dobbs.  "  Now,  trust  me  for  a  couple 
of  dollars'  wuth  of  yur  stuffs  !" 

"Lost,  by  Ned!"  says  yard-stick.  "Well,  there's  the 
fourpence  " 

"Thank  you ;  call  again  when  I  want  to  trade!"  says  Dobft., 

"  Do,  if  you  please  ;  wouldn't  like  to  lose  your  custom," 
says  the  clerk,  "  no  how." 

Polite  young  man  that— as  soon  as  his  chin  vegetates, 
provided  his  dickey  don't  cut  his  throat,  he'll  be  arte"  *-he 
gals.  Dobbs  thinks ! 


I  AM  tempted  to  believe,  that  few — very  few  men  can  start 
in  the  world — say  at  twenty,  with  a  replete  invoice  of 
honesty,  free  and  easy — kind,  generous — good-natured  dis 
position,  and  keep  it  up,  until  they  greet  their  fortieth 
year.  There  are,  doubtless,  plenty  of  men — I  hope  there 
are,  who  would  be  entirely  and  perfectly  generous-hearted, 
if  they  could,  with  any  degree  of  consistency ;  and  I  know 
there  are  multitudes  who  wouldn't  exhibit  an  honorable  or 
manly  trait,  of  any  human  description,  if  they  could. 
That  class  thrive  best,  it  appears  to  me — if  the  accumula 
tion  of  dollars  and  dimes  be  Webster,  Walker,  or  Scriptural 
interpretation  of  that  sense — in  this  sublunary  world. 
Meanness  and  dishonesty  win  what  good  nature  and  honesty 
lose,  hence  the  more  thrift  to  the  former,  and  the  less  gain, 
pecuniarily  considered,  to  the  latter.  The  subject  is  very 
prolific,  and  as  my  present  purpose  is  as  much  to  point  a 
humorous  sketch  as  to  adorn  a  moral,  I  needs  must  cut 
speculative  philosophistics  for  facts,  in  the  case  of  my  friend 
John  Jenks,  an  emphatic — "  used  up"  good  fellow. 

Jenks  started  in  this  world  with  a  firs-t-rate  opinion  of 
himself  and  the  rest  of  mankind.  Xo  man  ever  started 
with  a  larger  capital  of  good  nature,  human  benevolence, 
and  common  honesty,  than  honest  John.  Few  men  ever 
.jfrarted  with  better  general  prospects,  for  "a  good  time," 
v  and  plenty  of  it,  than  Jenks.  He  graduated  with  honor  to 
himself  and  the  Institute  of  his  native  State,  and  with  but 
little  knowledge  beyond  the  college  library  and  the  social 
circles  of  his  immediate  friends.  At  twenty-three,  John 
Jenks  went  into  business  on  his  own  hook. 

(43) 


44  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Of  course  John  soon  formed  various  and  many  business 
acquaintances ;  he  learned  that  men  were  brothers — should 
love,  honor,  and  respect  one  another,  from  precepts  set  him 
at  his  father's  fireside.  He  formed  the  opinion,  that  this 
brotherhood  was  not  to  be  alienated  in  matters  of  business, 
for  he  never  refused  to  act  kindly  to  all ;  he  freely  loaned 
his  autograph  arid  purse  to  his  business  acquaintances;  but, 
being  backed  up  by  a  snug  business  capital,  he  seldom  felt 
the  necessity  of  claiming  like  accommodation,  or  he  would 
have  gotten  his  eye  teeth  cut  cheaper  and  sooner. 

"  Jenks,"  said  a  business  man,  stopping  in  at  Jenks'  count 
ing  room  one  September  morning,  "Perkins  &  Ball,  I  see, 
have  stopped — gone  to  smash  !" 

''Have  they?"  quickly  responded  Jenks. 

"  They  have,  and  a  good  many  fingers  will  be  burnt  by 
them,"  replied  the  informant.  "  By  the  way,  Barclay  says 
you  have  some  of  their  paper  on  hand  ;  is  it  true  ?"  con 
tinued  the  man. 

"  I  have  some,  not  much,"  answered  Jenks — "  not  enough 
at  all  events  to  create  any  alarm  as  to  their  willingness  or 
ability  to  take  it  up." 

But  in  looking  over  his  "accounts,"  Jenks  found  a  con 
siderably  larger  amount  of  Perkins  &  Ball's  paper  on 
hand,  than  an  experienced  business  man  might  have  con 
templated  with  entire  Christian  resignation.  The  gazette, 
in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  gave  publicity  to  the  smash 
of  the  house  of  Perkins,  Ball  &  Co.  There  was  a  buzz 
"on  'change;"  those  losers  by  the  smash  were  bitter  in 
their  denunciatory  remarks,  while  those  gaining  by  the  trans 
action  snickered  in  their  sleeves  and  kept  mum.  Jenka 
heard  all,  and  said  nothing.  He  reasoned,  that  if  the  firm 
were  smashed  by  imprudences,  or  through  dishonest  motives, 
they  were  getting  "  an  elegant  sufficiency"  of  public  and 
private  vituperation,  without  his  aid.  Though  far  from  his 
thoughts  of  entering  into  such  "lists,"  and  inclined  to  hold 


USED   UP.  45 

on  and  see  how  things  come  out — Jenks,  for  the  credit  of 
common  humanity,  seldom  recapitulated  the  amount,  by 
discounting,  &c.< — he  was  likely  to  be  in  for,  if  P.  &  B. 
were  really  "done  gone."  This  resolve,  like  some  rules, 
worked  both  ways. 

As  "  honest  John"  was  drawing  on  his  gloves  to  leave 
his  commercial  institution,  after  the  above  occurrences  had 
had  some  ten  days'  grace ;  one  evening,  the  senior  partner 
of  the  house  of  Perkins  &  Ball  came  in.  Greetings  were 
cordial,  and  in  the  private  office  of  Jenks,  an  hour's  dis 
course  took  place  between  the  merchants ;  which,  in  brief 
transcription,  may  be  summed  up  in  the  fact,  that  Jenks 
received  a  two-third  indemnification  on  all  his  liabilities  for 
the  smashed  house  of  P.  &  B.,  which  the  senior  partner  as 
sured  him,  arose  from  the  fact  of  his,  Jenks',  gentlemanly 
forbearance  in  not  joining  the  clamor  against  them,  in  the 
adverse  hour,  nor  pushing  his  claims,  when  he  had  reason 
to  believe  that  they  were  down  ;  quite  down  at  the  heel. 
Jenks  "hoped"  he  should  never  be  found  on  the  wrong  or 
even  doubtful  side  of  humanity,  gentlemanly  courtesy,  or 
Christian  kindness ;  they  shook  hands  and  parted ;  the 
senior  partner  of  the  exploded  firm  requesting,  and  Jenks 
agreeing,  to  say  every  thing  he  could  towards  sustaining  the 
honor  of  the  house  of  P.  &  B.,  and  recreating  its  now 
almost  extinguished  credit.  Those  who  fought  the  bank 
rupt  merchants  most  got  the  least,  and  because  Jenks  pre 
served  an  undisturbed  serenity,  when  it  was  known  that  he 
was  as  deeply  a  loser,  they  supposed,  as  any  one,  they  were 
staggered  at  his  philosophy,  or  amused  at  his  extreme  good 
nature.  This  latter  result  seemed  the  most  popular  and 
accepted  notion  of  Jenks'  character,  and  proved  the  ground 
work  of  his  pecuniary  destruction. 

The  firm  of  Perkins  &  Ball  crept  up  again ;  Jenks  had, 
on  all  occasions,  spoken  in  the  most  favorable  terms  of  the 
firm  ;  he  not  only  freely  endorsed  again  for  them,  but  stood 


46  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

their  referee  generally.  In  the  meantime,  Jenks'  celebrity 
for  good  nature  and  open-heart edness  had  drawn  around 
him  a  host  of  patrons  and  admirers.  Jenks'  name  became 
a  circulating  medium  for  half  his  business  acquaintances. 
If  Brown  was  short  in  his  cash  account,  five  hundred  or  a 
thousand  dollars • 

"Just  run  over  to  Jenks',"  he'd  say  to  his  clerk;  "ask 
him  to  favor  me  with  a  check  until  the  middle  of  the  week." 
It  was  done. 

"  Terms— thirty  days  with  good  endorsed  paper,"  was 
sufficient  for  the  adventurous  Smith  to  buy  and  depend  on 
Jenks'  autograph  to  secure  the  goods.  When  in  funds, 
Bingle  went  where  he  chose ;  when  a  little  short,  Jenks  had 
his  patronage.  Jenks  kept  but  few  memorandums  of  acts 
of  kindness  he  daily  committed;  hence  when  the  evil  effects 
of  them  began  to  revolve  upon  him — if  not  mortified  or 
ashamed  of  his  "  bargains,"  he  at  least  was  astounded  at 
the  results.  Brown,  whose  due  bills  or  memorandums 
Jenks  held,  to  the  amount  of  seven  thousand  dollars,  ac 
commodation  loans,  took  an  apoplectic,  one  warm  summer's 
day,  after  taking  a  luxurious  dinner.  Jenks  had  hardly 
learned  that  Brown's  affairs  were  pronounced  in  a  state  of 
deferred  bankruptcy,  when  the  first  rumor  reached  him  that 
Smith  had  bolted,  after  a  heavy  transaction  in  "  woolens" — 
Jenks  his  principal  endorser — Smith  not  leaving  assets  or 
assigns  to  the  amount  of  one  red  farthing. 

"By  Jove!"  poor  Jenks  muttered,  as  he  tremulously 
seated  himself  in  his  back  counting  room — "  that's  shabby  in 
Smith— very  shabby." 

The  next  morning's  Gazette  informed  the  community 
that  Bingle  had  failed— liabilities  over  $200,000 — prospects 
barely  giving  hopes  of  ten  per  cent,  all  around  ;  and  even 
this  hope,  upon  Jenks'  investigation,  proved  a  forlorn  one ; 
by  a,  modus  operandi  peculiar  to  the  heartless,  self-devoted, 
they  got  all,  Jenks  and  the  few  of  his  ilk,  got  nothing ! 


USED    UP.  47 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Jenks  became  pecuniarily 
moody.  For  the  first  time,  in  the  course  of  his  mercantile 
career,  of  some  six  years,  the  force  of  reflection  convinced 
him,  that  he  had  not  acted  his  part  judiciously,  however 
"well  done"  it  might  be,  in  point  of  honor  and  manliness. 

The  next  day  Jenks  devoted  to  a  scrutiny  of  his  accounts 
in  general  with  the  business  world.  He  found  things  a 
great  deal  "  mixed  up ;"  his  balance-sheet  exhibited  large 
surplusages  accumulated  on  the  score  of  his  leniency  and 
good  nature ;  by  the  credit  of  those  with  whom  he  held 
business  relations.  A  council  of  war,  or  expediency, 
rather, — solus,  convinced  Jenks,  he  had  either  mistaken  his 
business  qualifications,  or  formed  a  very  vague  idea  of  the 
soul — manners  and  customs  of  the  business  world ;  and 
he  broke  up  his  council,  a  sadder  if  not  a  wiser  man. 

"  By  Jove,  this  is  discouraging ;  I'll  have  to  do  a  very 
disagreeable    thing,    very    disagreeable    thing :    make    an     ^ 
assignment  /" 

"  Who'd  thought  John  Jenks  would  ever  come  to  that  ?" 
that  individual  muttered  to  himself,  as  he  proceeded  to  his 
hotel.  And  ere  he  reached  his  plate,  at  the  tea-table,  a 
servant  whispered  that  a  gentleman  with  a  message  was 
out  in  the  "  office"  of  the  hotel,  anxious  to  see  Mr.  Jenks. 

"  Mr.  Jenks — John  Jenks,  I  believe,  sir  ?"  began  the 
person,  as  poor  Jenks,  now  on  the  tapis  for  more  ill  news, 
approached  the  person  in  waiting. 

"  Precisely,  that's  my  name,  sir,"  Jenks  responded. 

"Then,"  continued  the  stranger,  "I've  disagreeable 
business  with  you,  Mr.  Jenks;  1  hold  your  arrest!" 

"Good  God!"  exclaimed  Jenks;  "my  arrest?  What 
for  ?" 

"  There's  the  writ,  sir  ;  you  can  read  it." 

"A  vjrit?  Why,  God  bless  you,  man,  I  don't  owe  a 
dollar  in  the  world,  but  what  I  can  liquidate  in  ten 
minutes  !" 


48  HUMORS   OF  F4LCONBRIDGE. 

"Oh,  it's  not  debt,  sir;  you  may  see  by  the  writ  it's 
felony  /" 

If  the  man  had  drawn  and  cocked  a  revolver  at  Jenks,  the 
effect  upon  his  nervous  system  could  not  have  been  more  start 
ling  or  powerful.  But  he  recovered  his  self-possession,  and 
learned  with  dismay,  that  he  was  arrested — yes,  arrested  as 
an  accessory  to  a  grand  scheme  of  fraud  and  general  vil- 
lany,  on  the  part  of  Smith,  a  conclusion  arrived  at,  by 
those  most  interested,  upon  discovery  that  Jenks  had  pro 
nounced  Smith  "good,"  and  endorsed  for  him  in  sums 
total,  enormously,  far  beyond  Jenks'  actual  ability  to  make 
good  1 

It  was  in  vain  Jenks  declared,  and  no  man  before  ever 
dreamed  of  doubting  his  word,  his  entire  ability  to  meet  all 
liabilities  of  his  own  and  others,  for  whom  he  kindly  become 
responsible  ;  for  when  the  bulk  of  Smith's  paper  with  Jenks' 
endorsement  was  thrust  at  him,  he  gave  in;  saw  clearly  that 
he  was  the  victim  of  a  heartless  forger. 

But  his  calmness,  in  the  midst  of  his  affliction,  triumphed, 
and  he  rested  comparatively  easy  in  jail  that  night,  await 
ing  the  bright  future  of  to-morrow,  when  his  established 
character,  and  "  troops  of  friends"  should  set  all  right. 
But,  poor  Jenks,  he  reckoned  indeed  without  his  host ;  to 
morrow  came,  but  not  "a  friend  in  need;"  they  saw,  in  their 
far-reaching  wisdom,  a  sinking  ship,  and  like  sagacious  rats, 
they  deserted  it ! 

"I  always  thought  Jenks  a  very  good-natured,  or  a  very 
deep  man,"  said  one. 

"I  knew  he  was  too  generous  to  last  long!"  said  an 
other. 

"  I  told  him  he  was  green  to  endorse  as  freely  as  he  did," 
echoed  a  third. 

"Good  fellow,"  chimed  a  fourth — "but  devilish  impru 
dent." 

"He  knows  what  he's  at!"  cunningly  retorted  a  fifth,  and 


USED    UP.  49 

so  the  good  but  misguided  Jenks  was  disposed  of  by  his 
"  troops  of  friends  !" 

But  Perkins  &  Ball — they  had  got  up  again,  were  flour 
ishing  ;  they,  Jenks  felt  satisfied,  would  not  show  the 
"white  feather,"  and  the  thought  came  to  him,  in  his 
prison,  as  merrily  as  the  reverse  of  that  fond  hope  made 
him  sad  and  sorrowful,  when  at  the  close  of  day,  his  attor 
ney  informed  him,  that  Perkins  &  Ball  regretted  his  per 
plexing  situation,  but  proffered  him  no  aid  or  comfort. 
They  said,  sad  experience  had  shown  them,  that  there  were 
no  "bowels  of  compassion"  in  the  world  for  the  fallen; 
men  must  trust  to  fortune,  God,  and  their  own  exertions,  to 
defeat  ill  luck  and  rise  from  difficulties  ;  they  had  done  so ; 
Mr.  Jenks  must  not  despair,  but  surmount  his  misfortunes 
with  a  stout  heart  and  a  clear  conscience,  and  profit,  as 
they  had,  by  reverses! 

"  Profit !"  said  Jenks,  in  a  bitter  tone,  "profit  by  reverses 
as  they  have !" 

"Why,  Powers,"  he  continued  to  his  counsel,  "  do  you 
know  that  if  I  had  been  a  tithe  part  as  base  and  con 
scienceless  as  they  are  now,  Perkins  &  Ball  would  be  beg 
gars,  if  not  inmates  of  this  prison  !  Yes,  sir,  my  casting 
vote,  of  all  the  rest,  would  have  done  it.  But  no  matter ;  I 
had  hoped  to  find,  in  a  community  where  I  had  been  useful, 
generous  and  just,  friends  enough  for  all  practical  purposes, 
without  carrying  my  business  difficulties  to  the  fireside  of 
my  parents  and  other  relations.  But  that  I  must  do  now ; 
if,  if  they  fail  me,  then 1  cave!" 

Two  days  after  that  conference  of  the  lawyer  and  the 
merchant,  "  honest  John"  learned,  with  sorrow,  that  his 
father  was  dead ;  estate  involved,  and  his  friends  at  home 
in  no  favorable  mood  in  reference  to  what  they  heard  of 
John  Jenks  and  his  "  bad  management"  in  the  city. 

John    Jenks — heard    no    more — he    "  caved !"    as    he 
agreed  to. 
3 


50  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

We  pass  over  Jenks'  Smithsonian  difficulty,  which  a  pru 
dent  lawyer  and  discerning  jury  brought  out  all  right. 

We  come  to  1850 — some  fifteen  or  eighteen  years  after 
John  Jenks  "caved."  The  John  Jenks  of  183-  had  been 
ruined  by  his  good  nature,  set  adrift  moneyless,  in  a  manner, 
with  even  a  spotted  reputation  to  begin  with  ;  he  "  pro 
fited  by  his  reverses,"  he  was  now  a  man  of  family fifty, 

fat,  and  wealthy,  and  altogether  the  meanest  and  most  self 
ish  man  you  ever  saw  ! 

Jenks  freely  admits  his  originality  is  entirely — "  used 
up!"  The  reader  may  affix  the  moral  of  my  sketch — at 
leisure. 


totet 


SAY  what  you  will,  it's  no  use  talking,  poverty  is  more 
potent  and  powerful,  as  a  moral  engine,  than  all  the  "  ser 
mons  and  soda  water,"  law,  logic,  and  prison  discipline, 
ever  started.  All  a  man  wants,  while  he  has  a  chance  to  be 
honest,  and  to  get  along  smoothly,  is  a  good  situation  and 
two  dollars  a  day  ;  give  him  five  dollars  a  day,  and  he  gets 
lazy  and  careless  ;  while  at  ten,  or  a  hundred  a  day,  he 
is  sure  to  cultivate  beastly  feeling,  eat  and  sleep  to  stupe 
faction,  become  a  roue,  or  a  rotten  politician.  A  poor 
man,  in  misery,  applies  to  God  for  consolation,  while  a  rich 
man  applies  to  his  banker,  and  tries  on  a  "  bender,"  or  goes 
on  a  tour  to  Europe,  and  studies  foreign  folly  and  French 
license.  Poverty  is  great  ;  in  a  Christian  community,  or  a 
thriving  village,  it  is  equal  to  "martial  law,"  in  suppressing 
moral  rebellion  and  keeping  down  the.  "dander  !"  And 
how  faithful,  too,  is  poverty,  says  Dr.  Litteragc,  f-;r  it 
sticks  to  a  man  after  all  his  friends  and  the  rest  of  mankind 
have  deserted  him  ! 


Stars  of  Cajjt. 


ILOYE  to  speak,  I  love  to  write  of  the  mighty  West.  I 
have  passed  ten  happy  and  partly  pleasant  years  travelling 
over  the  immense  tracts  of  land  of  the  West  and  South.  I 
have,  during  that  time,  garnered  up  endless  themes  for  my 
pen.  It  was  my  custom,  during  my  travels,  to  keep  a 
"  log,"  as  the  mariners  have  it,  and  at  the  close  of  the  day  I 
always  noted  the  occurrences  that  transpired  with  me  or 
others,  when  of  interest,  and  opportunities  were  favorable 
to  do  so. 

Several  years  ago  I  was  stopping  at  Yevay,  Indiana,  a 
small  village  on  the  Ohio  rivg;,  waiting  for  a  steamboat  to 
touch  there  and  take  me  up  &>  Louisville,  Ky.  It  was  in 
the  fall  of  the  year,  water  was  very  low,  and  but  few  boats 
running.  Shortly  after  breakfast,  I  took  my  rifle  and  am 
munition  and  started  down  along  the  river  to  amuse  myself, 
and  kill  time  by  hunting.  Game  was  scarce,  and  after 
strolling  along  until  noon,  I  got  tired  and  came  out  to  the 
river  to  see  if  any  boats  were  in  sight,  as  well  as  take  shel 
ter  from  a  heavy  shower  of  rain  that  had  come  on.  I  sought 
an  immense  old  tree,  whose  broad  crown  and  thick  foliage 
made  my  shelter  as  dry  as  though  under  a  roof,  arid  here  I 
sat  down,  bending  my  eyes  along  the  placid,  quiet  and 
noble  river,  until  I  was  quite  lost  in  silent  reverie.  The 
rain  poured  down,  arid  presently  I  heard  a  footstep  ap 
proaching  from  the  woods  behind,  and  at  the  same  moment 
a  rough,  curly  dog  came  smelling  along  towards  me.  The 
dog  came  up  to  within  a  few  rods  of  me  and  stopped, 
took  a  grin  at  me  and  then  disappeared  again.  But  my 

(51) 


52  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

further  anxiety  was  soon  relieved  by  the  appearance  of  a 
tall,  gaunt  man,  dressed  in  the  usual  costume  of  a  western 
woodsman,  jean  trowsers,  hunting  shirt,  old  slouched  felt 
hat,  rifle,  powder  horn,  bullet  pouch,  and  sheath  knife.  He 
was  an  old  man,  face  sallow  and  wrinkled,  and  hair  quite 
a  steelish  hue. 

" Mornin',  stranger,"  said  he;  "rayther  a  wet  day  for 
game  ?" 

I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  welcomed  him  to  my 
shelter.  Having  taken  a  seat  near  me,  on  the  fallen  trunk 
of  a  small  tree,  the  old  man,  half  to  himself  and  partly  to 
me,  sighed — 

"  Ah  !  yes,  yes,  our  day  is  fast  gwoin  over ;  an  entire 
new  set  of  folks  will  soon  people  this  country,  and  the  old 
settler  will  be  all  gone,  and  no  more  thought  of." 

"  I  imagine,"  said  I,  interrupting  his  soliloquy,  "  that  you 
are  an  old  settler,  and  have  noted  vast,  wonderful  changes 
here  in  the  Ohio  Yalley  ?" 

"Wonderful;  yes,  yes,  stranger,  thar  you're  right;  I 
have  seen  wonderful  changes  since  I  first  squatted  'yer, 
thirty-five  years  ago.  Every  thing  changes  about  one  so, 
that  I  skearse  know  the  old  river  any  more.  'Yer  they've 
brought  their  steamboats  puffin',  and  blowin',  and  skeerin'off 
the  game,  fish,  and  alligators.  'Yer  they've  built  thar 
towns  and  thar  store  houses,  and  thar  nice  farm  houses, 
and  keep  up  sich  a  clatter  and  noise  among  'em  all,  that 
one  fond  of  our  old  quiet  times  in  the  woods,  goes  nigh 
bein'  distracted  with  these  new  matters  and  folks." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "neighbor,  you  old  woodsmen  will  have 
to  do  as  the  Indians  have  done,  and  as  Daniel  Boone  did, 
when  the  advancing  axe  of  civilization,  and  the  mighty 
steam  and  steel  arms  of  enterprise  and  improvement  make 
the  varmints  leave  their  lairs,  and  the  air  heavy  and  clamor 
ous  with  the  gigantic  efforts  of  industry,  genius,  and 
wealth,  you  must  fall  back.  Our  territories  are  boundless, 


THE  STORY  OF  CAPT.  PAUL.          53 

and  there  are  yet  dense  forests,  woods,  and  wilds,  where 
the  Indian,  lone  hunter,  and  solitary  beast,  shall  rove  amid 
the  wild  grandeur  of  God's  infinite  space  for  a  century  yet 
to  come." 

"Ah,  yes,  yes,  young  man  ;  I  should  have  long  since  up 
stakes  and  rolled  before  this  sweeping  tide  of  new  settlers, 
only  I  can't  bar  to  leave  this  tract  'yer  ;  no,  stranger,  I  can't 
bar  to  doit." 

"  Doubtless,"  I  replied ;  "  one  feels  a  strong  love  for 
old  homes,  a  lingering  desire  to  lay  one's  bones  to  their  final 
resting  place,  near  a  spot  and  objects  that  life  and  familiarity 
made  dear." 

"Yes,  yes,  stranger,  that's  it,  that's  it.  But  look  down 
thar — thar's  what  makes  this  spot  dear  to  me — thar,  do  you 
see  yon  little  hillock — yon  little  mound  ?  Thar's  what  keeps 
old  Tom  Ward  'yer  for  life." 

The  old  man  seemed  deeply  affected,  and  sighed  heavily, 
as  he  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his 
hand.  I  gazed  down  towards  the  spot  he  had  called  my 
attention  to,  and  there  I  beheld,  indeed,  something  resem 
bling  a  solitary  and  lonely  grave  ;  wild  flowers  bloomed 
around  it,  and  a  flat  stone  stood  at  the  head,  and  a  small 
stake  at  the  foot. 

"  'Tisn't  often  one  comes  this  way  to  ask  the  question, 
and  the  Lord  knows,  stranger,  I'm  always  willing  to  tell 
the  sad  story  of  that  lonely  grave.  Well,  well,  it's  no  use 
to  grieve  always,  the  red  whelps  have  paid  well  for  thar 
doins,  and  now,  but  few  of  'em  are  spared  to  repent — the 
Lord  forgive  'em  all,"  to  which  I  involuntarily  echoed — 
"  Amen  !" 

"Well,  stranger,  you  see,  about  five-and-thirty  years  ago, 
I  left  Western  Virginia  to  come  down  'yer  in  the  Ohio 
valley.  I  well  remember  the  first  glimpse  I  got  of  this 
stream;  it  war  a  big  stream  to  me,  and  I  gloried  in  the 
sight  of  it.  Thar  war  but  few  settlements  then  upon  its 


54:  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

banks,  and  thar  war  none  of  your  roarinr,  splashin'  steam 
boats  about ;  but  I  like  the  steamboats — thar  grand  crea 
tures,  and  go  it  like  high-mettled  horses.  Well,  I  war  a 
young  man  then ;  me  and  my  brother  and  our  old  mother 
joined  in  with  a  neighbor,  built  a  family  boat,  put  in  our 
goods,  and  started  off  down  the  stream,  towards  the  lower 
part  thar  of  Kentucky. 

"  Captain  Paul,  our  neighbor,  war  an  old  woodsman, 
though  he  war  a  young  man  ;  he  had  a  wife  and  several  fine, 
growin'  children  along  with  us,  and  our  journey  for  many 
days  war  prosperous  and  pleasant.  Capt.  Paul's  wife's  sis 
ter  war  along  with  us,  a  fine  young  creature  she  war  too. 
My  brother  and  her  I  always  carc'lated  would  make  a 
match  of  it  when  we  reached  our  journey's  end  ;  but  poor 
Ben,  God  bless  the  boy,  he  little  dreampt  he'd  be  cut 
off  so  soon  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  leave  his  bones  'yer  to 
rot,  I  war  young  too,  then,  and  little  thought  I  should 
ever  come  to  be  this  old,  withered-op  creature  you  gee  me 
now,  stranger." 

"Why,  you  appear  to  be  a  hearty,  hale  man  yet,"  said  I, 
encouraging  the  old  man  to  proceed  in  his  narrative, 
"and  no  doubt  shoot  as  well  and  see  as  keenly  and  far  as 
ever?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  can  drive  a  centre  purty  well  yet ;  but  my 
hand  begins  to  tremble  sometimes,  and  I'm  failing — yes, 
yes,  I  know  I'm  failing.  But,  to  go  on  with  my  story :  I 
acted  as  sort  of  pilot.  Then  the  country  were  yet  pretty  full 
of  Ingius,  and  mighty  few  cabins  war  made  along  the  river 
in  them  times.  The  whites  arid  red-skins  war  eternally 
fighting.  I  won't  say  which  war  to  blame ;  the  whites  killed 
the  creatures  off  fast  enough,  and  the  Ingins  took  plenty  of 
scalps  and  war  cruel  to  the  white  man  whenever  they  fast 
ened  on  him. 

"  Our  old  ark  or  boat  war  well  loaded  down  ;  a  few  loose 
boards  served  as  a  shelter  from  the  sun  and  rain,  and  a  few 


THE  STORY  OF  CAPT.  PAUL.          55 

planks  spiked  to  the  sides  'bove  water,  kept  the  swells  from 
rollin'  in  on  us.  Two  black  boys  helped  the  captain  and  I 
to  manage  the  boat,  and  an  old  black  woman  waited  on  the 
wimin  folks  and  did  the  cooking. 

11  You  see  yon  pint  thar,  up  the  river  ?"  continued  the 
narrator,  pointing  his  long,  bony  finger  towards  a  great 
bend,  and  a  point  on  the  Kentucky  side  of  the  stream. 

"Yes,"  T  replied,  "I  see  it  distinctly." 

"Well,  it  war  thar,  or  jest  above  thar,  about  sunset  of  a 
pleasant  day,  that  we  came  drifting  along  with  our  flat- 
boat,  or  broad  horn,  as  they  were  called  in  them  days, 
when  Captain  Paul  said  he  thought  it  would  be  a  snug 
place  just  behind  the  pint,  to  tie  up  to  them  same  big 
trees  yet  standin'  thar  as  they  did  then.  Ben,  poor  Ben- 
and  I  concluded  too,  it  would  be  a  clever  place  to  camp  for 
the  night;  so  we  headed  the  boat  in — for,  you  see,  we 
always  kept  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  as  near  as  possible, 
to  keep  clear  of  the  red  skins  who  committed  a  mighty 
heap  of  depredations  upon  the  movers  and  river  traders, 
by  decoyin'  the  boat  on  shore,  or  layin'  in  ambush  and 
firin'  their  rifles  at  the  incautious  folks  in  the  boats  that  got 
too  nigh  'em.  Guina  and  Joe,  the  two  black  boys,  rowed 
enough  to  get  around  the  pint.  We  had  no  fear  of  the 
Ingins,  as  we  expected  we  war  beyond  thar  haunts  just 
thar ;  mother  war  gettin  out  the  supper  things,  and  Cap 
tain  Paul's  wife  and  sister  were  nestling  away  the  children. 
Just  then,  as  we  got  cleverly  under  the  lee  of  the  shore  thar, 
I  heard  a  crack  like  a  dry  stick  snappin'  under  foot — 

"  '  Thar's  a  deer  or  bar,'  said  the  captain. 

"  '  Hold  on  your  oars,'  says  I — '  boys,  I  don't  like  that 
— it  'tain't  a  deer's  tread,  nor  a  bar's  nether,'  says  I. 

"  By  this  time  we  had  got  within  thirty  yards  of  the  bank 
— another  slight  noise — the  bushes  moved,  and  I  sung  out 
— '  Ingins,  by  the  Lord !  back  the  boat,  back,  boys, 
back  1' 


56  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Poor  Ben  snatched  up  his  rifle,  so  did  the  captain;  but 
before  we  could  get  way  on  the  boat,  a  band  of  the  bloody 
devils  rushed  out  and  gave  us  a  volley  of  shouts  and 
shower  of  balls,  that  made  these  hills  and  river  banks  echo 
again.  Poor  Ben  fell  mortally  wounded  and  bleeding,  into 
the  bottom  of  the  boat ;  two  of  the  captain's  children 
were  killed,  his  wife  wounded,  and  a  bullet  dashed  the  cap 
off  my  head. 

"  I  shouted  to  the  boys  to  pull,  and  soon  got  out  of  reach 
of  the  Ingins.  They  had  no  canoes,  bein'  only  a  scoutin' 
war  party  ;  they  could  not  reach  us.  The  wounded  horses 
and  cows  kicked  and  plunged  among  the  goods,  the  wimin 
and  children  screamed. 

"  Oh !  stranger,  it  war  a  frightful  hour ;  one  I  shall  remem 
ber  to  my  dyin'  day,  as  it  war  only  yesterday  I  saw  and 
heard  it.  It  war  now  dark,  the  boat  half  filled  with  water, 
my  brother  dyin',  Captain  Paul  nerveless  hangin'  over  his 
wife  and  children,  cryin'  like  a  whipped  child.  I  still 
clung  on  to  my  oar,  and  made  the  poor  blacks  pull  for  this 
side  of  the  river,  as  fast  and  well  as  thar  bewildered  and 
frightened  senses  allowed  'em. 

"  My  poor  mother  leaned  over  poor  Ben.  She  held  his 
head  in  her  lap  ;  she  opened  his  bosom  and  the  blood  flowed 
out.  He  still  breathed  faintly — 

"  'Benjamin,  my  son,'  said  she,  '  do  you  know  me  ?' 

"  '  Mother,'  he  breathed  lowly.  Mother  tried  to  have 
him  drink  a  cup  of  water  from  the  river,  but  he  war  past 
nourishment — and  she  asked  him  if  he  knew  he  war  dyin'  ? 

"  He  gasped,  'Yes,  mother,  and  may  the  Lord  our  God 
in  heaven  be  merciful  to  me,  thus  cut  from  you  and  life, 
mother — ' 

"  'God's  will  be  done,'  cried  my  mother,  as  the  pale  face 
of  her  darlin'  boy  fell  upon  her  hand — he  was  gone. 

"  We  reached  shore,  but  dar  not  kindle  a  light,  for 
fear  the  Ingins  might  be  prowlin'  about  on  this  side  j  yes, 


THE  STORY  OP  CAPT.  PAUL.  57 

under  this  very  tree,  did  we  'camp  that  gloomy  night. 
The  whole  of  us,  livin',  dead,  and  wounded,  lay  'yer,  fearin? 
even  to  weep  aloud.  About  midnight,  I  took  the  two 
blacks,  and  we  dug  yon  grave  and  laid  poor  Ben  in  it,  and 
the  two  children  by  his  side.  It  war  an  awful  thing — aw 
ful  to  us  all ;  and  our  sighs  and  sobs,  mingled  with  the 
prayers  of  the  old  mother,  went  to  God's  footstool,  I'm 
sure.  We  made  such  restin'  places  as  circumstances  per 
mitted.  I  lay  down,  but  the  cries  of  poor  Captain  Paul's 
wife  and  sister,  cries  of  the  two  survivin'  children,  and  moans 
of  us  all,  made  sleep  a  difficult  affair.  By  peep  of  day  I 
went  down  to  the  grave,  and  thar  sat  the  old  mother.  She 
had  sat  thar  the  live-long  night;  the  sudden  shock  had 
been  too  much  for  her. 

"  Two  days  afterwards  the  grave  was  opened  and  enlarged, 
and  received  two  more  bodies,  the  wife  of  Captain  Paul, 
and  our  kind,  good  old  mother.  Thirty-five  years  have 
now  passed.  Could  I  leave  this  place  ?  No  ;  not  a  day 
at  a  time  have  I  missed  seeing  the  grave,  when  within  miles 
of  it.  No,  here  must  I  rest  too." 

The  old  man  seemed  deeply  affected.  I  could  not  re 
frain  from  taking  up  the  thread  of  his  narrative  to  inquire 
what  had  become  of  Captain  Paul  and  his  wife's  sister. 

"Well,  poor  thing,  you  see  it  war  natural  enough  for  her 
to  love  her  sister's  children,  and  the  captain,  he  couldn't 
help  lovin'  her  too,  for  that.  The  captain  settled  down  here, 
about  two  miles  back,  and  in  a  few  years  the  sister-in-law 
and  he  war  man  and  wife,  and  a  kind,  good  old  wife  she  is 
too.  I've  'camped  with  'em  ever  since,  and  with  'em  I'll 
die,  and  be  put  thar— thar,  to  rest  in  that  little  mound  with 
the  rest.  But  I  must  bide  my  time,  stranger — we  must  all 
bide  our  time.  Now,  stranger,  I've  told  you  my  sad  story, 
I  must  ax  a  favor.  Seeing  as  you  are  a  town-bred  person, 
perhaps  a  preacher,  I  want  you  to  kneel  down  by  that 
grave  and  make  a  prayer.  I  feel  that  it  is  a  good  thing 


68  THE   HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

to  pray,  though  we  woods  people  know  but  little  about 
it." 

I  told  him  I  was  not  a  minister  in  the  common  accepta 
tion  of  the  term,  but  considering  we  all  are  God's  ministers 
that  study  God's  will  and  our  own  duty  to  man,  I  could 
pray,  did  pray,  and  left  the  poor  woodsman  with  an  ex 
alted  feeling,  I  hope,  of  divine  and  infinite  grace  to  all  who 
seek  it. 

A  boat  touched  Yevay  that  evening,  and  I  left,  deeply 
impressed  with  this  little  story. 


Jmiitarj 

MEANNESS  is  as  natural  to  some  people,  as  gutta  percha 
beefsteaks  in  a  cheap  boarding-house.  Schoodlefaker  says 
he  saw  a  striking  instance  in  Quincy  market  last  Saturday. 
An  Irish  woman  came  up  to  a  turkey  merchant,  and  says 
she — 

"What  wud  yees  be  after  axin' for  nor  a  chicken  like 
that  ?" 

"  That's  a  turkey,  not  a  chicken,"  says  the  merchant. 

"Turkey?  Be  dad  an'  it's  a  mighty  small  turkey — it's 
stale  enough,  too,  I'd  be  sworn  ;  poor  it  is,  too  I  What'd 
yees  ax  for  'un  ?" 

"Well,  seein'  it's  pooty  nigh  night,  and  the  last  I've  got, 
I'll  let  you  have  it  for  two  and  six." 

"  Two  and  six  ?  Hoot !  I'd  give  yees  half  a  dollar  fur 
it,  and  be  dad  not  another  cint." 

"Well,"  says  the  satisfied  poultry  merchant,  "take  it 
along  ;  I  won't  dicker  for  a  cent  or  two." 

Mrs.  Doolygan  paid  over  the  half,  boned  the  turkey,  and 
went  on  her  way  quite  elated  with  the  brilliancy  of  her 
talents  in  financiering !  There's  one  merit  in  meanness,  if 
it  disgusts  the  looker-on,  it  never  fails  to  carry  a  pleasing 
sensation  to  the  bosom  of  the  gamester. 


feitlj  tj}t  (imtmtu. 


OFFICE-SEEKING  has  become  a  legitimatized  branch 
of  our  every-day  business,  as  much  so  as  in  former  times 
"reduced  gentlemen"  took  to  keeping  school  or  posting  books. 
In  former  times,  men  took  to  politics  to  give  zest  to  a  life 
already  replete  with  pecuniary  indulgences,  as  those  in  the 
"  sere  and  yellow  leaf  "  are  wont  to  take  to  religion  as  a 
solacing  comfort  against  things  that  are  past,  and  pave  the 
way  to  a  very  desirable  futurity.  But  now,  politicians  are 
of  no  peculiar  class  or  condition  of  citizens  ;  the  success  of 
a  champion  depends  not  so  much  upon  the  matter,  as  upon 
the  manner,  not  upon  the  capital  he  may  have  in  real  estate, 
bank  funds  or  public  stocks,  but  upon  the  fundamental 
principle  of  "confidence,"  gutta  percha  lungs  and  unmis 
takable  amplitude  of  —  brass  and  bravado  !  If  any  man 
doubts  the  fact,  let  him  look  around  him,  and  calculate  the 
matter.  Why  is  it  that  lawyers  are  so  particularly  felicit 
ous  in  running  for,  securing,  and  usurping  most  of  all  the 
important  or  profitable  offices  under  government  ?  Lungs 
—  gutta  percha  lungs  and  everlasting  impudence,  does  it. 
A  man  might  as  well  try  to  bail  out  the  Mississippi  with  a 
tea-spoon,  or  shoot  shad  with  a  fence-rail,  as  to  hope  for  a 
seat  in  Congress,  merely  upon  the  possession  of  patriotic 
principles,  or  double-concentrated  and  refined  integrity. 
Why,  if  George  Washington  was  a  Virginia  farmer  to-day, 
his  chance  for  the  Presidency  wouldn't  be  a  circumstance 
to  that  of  Rufus  Choate's,  while  there  is  hardly  a  lawyer 
attached  to  the  Philadelphia  bar  that  would  not  beat  the 
old  gentleman  out  of  his  top  boots  in  running  ior  the 
Senate  1  But  we'll  cut  "  wise  saws"  for  a  modern  instance  ; 

(59) 


60  THE   HUMORS   OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

let  us  attend  a  small  "caucus"  where  incipient  Demos- 
thenescs,  Ciccros,  and  Mark  Antonies  most  do  congregate, 
and  see  things  "  workiu'."  It  is  night,  a  ward  meeting  of 
the  unterrified,  meat-axe,  non-intervention — hats  off — hit 
him  again — butt-enders,  have  called  a  meeting  to  caucus  for 
the  coming  fall  contest.  "  Owing  to  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather,"  and  other  causes  too  tedious  to  mention,  of  some 
eight  hundred  of  the  unierrified,  non-intervention — Cuban 
annexation — Wilmot  proviso,  compromise,  meat-axe,  hats 
off — hit  him  again — butt-enders — only  eighty  attend  the 
call.  Of  these  eighty  faithful,  some  forty  odd  are  on  the 
wing  for  office ;  one  at  least  wants  to  work  his  way  up  to 
the  gubernatorial  chair,  five  to  the  Senate,  ten  to  the 
"Assembly,"  fifteen  to  the  mayoralty,  and  the  balance  to 
the  custom  house. 

Now,  before  the  "  curtain  rises,"  little  knots  of  the 
anxious  multitude  are  seen  here  and  there  about  the  corners 
of  the  adjacent  neighborhood  and  in  the  recesses  of  the 
caucus  chamber,  their  heads  together — caucusing  on  a 
small  scale. 

"  Flambang,  who'd  you  think  of  puttin'  up  to-night  for 
the  Senate,  in  our  ward  ?"  asks  a  cadaverous,  but  earnest 
unterrified,  of  a  brother  in  the  same  cause. 

"Well,  I  swan,  I  don't  know;  what  do  you  think  of 
Jenkins  ?" 

"  Jenkins  ?"  leisurely  responded  the  first  speaker ;  "  Jen 
kins  is  a  pooty  good  sort  of  a  man,  but  he  ain't  known ; 
made  himself  rather  unpop'ler  by  votin'  agin  that  grand 
junction  railroad  to  the  north  pole  bill,  afore  the  Legisla 
ture,  three  years  ago  ;  besides  he's  served  two  years  in  the 
Legislature,  and  been  in  the  custom  house  two  years  ;  talks 
of  going  to  California  or  somewhere  else,  next  spring — so 
I_a,  I-a — don't  think  much  of  Jenkins,  anyhow !" 

"Well,  then,"  says  Flambang,   "there's  Dr.  Rhubarb ; 


NIGHTS   WITH   THE   CAUCUSERS.  61 

what  do  you  think  of  him  ?  He's  a  sound  unterrified,  good 
man." 

11  A — ye-e-e-s,  the  doctor's  pooty  good  sort  of  a  man, 
but  I  don't  think  its  good  policy  to  run  doctors  for  office. 
If  they  are  defeated  it  sours  their  minds  equal  to  cream  of 
tartar ;  it  spiles  their  practice,  and  'tween  you  and  I,  Flam- 
bang,  if  they  takes  a  spite  at  a  man  that  didn't  vote  for 
'em,  and  he  gets  sick,  they're  called  in  ;  how  easy  it  is  for 
em  to  poison  us  /" 

"  Good  gracious  ! — you  don't  say  so  ?" 

"I  don't  say,  of  course  I  don't  say  so  of  Dr.  Rhubarb. 
I  only  supposed  a  case,"  replied  the  wily  caucuser. 

"  A  case  ?  Yes-s-s ;  a  feller  would  be  a  case,  under 
them  circumstances.  I'm  down  on  doctors,  then,  Twist ; 
but  what  do  you  say  to  Blowpipes  ?  He's  one  of  our  best 
speakers — " 

"  Gas!"  pointedly  responded  Twist. 

"  Gas  ?  Well,  you  voted  for  him  last  year,  when  he  run 
for  Congress ;  you  were  the  first  man  to  nominate  him, 
too!" 

"  So  I  was,  and  I  voted  for  him,  drummed  for  him,  fifed 
and  blowed  ;  that  was  no  reason  for  my  thinking  him  the  best 
man  we  had  for  the  office.  He's  a  demagogue,  an  ambitious, 
sly,  selfish  feller,  as  we  could  skeer  up ;  but,  he  was  in  our 
way,  we  couldn't  get  shut  of  him  ;  I  proposed  the  nomina 
tion,  and  tried  to  elect  him,  so  that  we  should  get  him  out 
of  the  way  of  our  local  affairs,  and  more  deserving  and  less 
pretendin'  men  could  get  a  chance,  don't  you  see  ?  Now, 
Flambang,  you're  the  man  I'm  goin'  in  for  to-night !" 

"  Me  !  Mr.  Twist?  Why,  bless  your  soul,  I  don't  want 
office !" 

"  Come,  now,  don't  be  modest.  I'll  lay  the  ground 
work,  you'll  be  nominated — I'll  not  be  known  in  it — you'll 
get  the  nomination — called  out  for  a  speech — so  be  on  the 
trigger — give  'em  a  rouser,  and  you're  in  !" 


62  THE    HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

Poor  Flambang,  a  modest,  retiring  man,  peaceable  pro 
prietor  of  a  small* shop,  in  which,  by  the  force  of  prudence 
and  economy,  he  has  laid  up  something,  has  a  voice  among 
his  fellow-citizens  and  some  influence,  but  would  as  soon 
attempt  to  carry  a  blazing  pine  knot  into  a  powder  maga 
zine,  or  "ship"  for  a  missionary  to  the  Tongo  Islands,  as 
to  run  for  the  Legislature  and  make  a  speech  in  public  ! 
Twist  knows  it ;  he  guesses  shrewdly  at  the  effect. 

"  Why  don't  you  run  ?"  says  Flambang,  after  many  efforts 
to  get  his  breath. 

"  Me  ?     Well,  if  you  don't  want  to  run:'1 

"  Eunt  I  would  as  soon  think  of  jumping  over  the 
moon,  as  running  for  office  I"  answers  Flambang.  "But  I 
thank  you,  thank  you  kindly,  for  your  good  intentions,  for 
your  confidence  (!),  Twist,  and  whatever  good  I  can  do  for 
you,  I'll  do,  and — " 

Twist  having  secured  the  first  step  to  his  plot,  enters  the 
caucus  chamber  in  deep  and  earnest  consultation  with 
Flambang,  and  while  preparations  are  being  made  to  "  histe 
the  rag,"  he  is  seen  making  converts  to  his  sly  purposes, 
upon  the  same  principle  by  which  he  converted  his  modest 
friend,  Flambang. 

"Who  are  you  going  in  for  to-night?"  asks  another 
"ambitious  for  distinction"  unterrified  of  "a  brother." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know;  it's  hard  to  tell ;  good  many  wants 
to  be  nominated,  and  good  many  more  than  will  be,"  was 
the  cogent  reply. 

"  That's  a  fact !"  was  the  equally  clear  response.  "  But 
'tween  you  and  I,  Pepper— I'd  like  to  get  the  nomination  for 
the  Senate  myself!" 

"No-o-o?" 

"Yes,  sir;  why  shouldn't  I?  Hain't  I  stood  by  the 
party  ?" 

"Well,  and  hain't  I  stood  by  it,  hung  by  it,  fastened 
to  it  ?" 


NIGHTS   WITH   THE   CAUCUSERS.  63 

"Pepper,  you  have;  so  have  I;  now,  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'll  do.  You  hang  by  me,  for  the  Senate,  and  I'll  go  in  for 
you  for  the  House." 

"Agreed;  hang  by  'em,  give  'em  a  blast,  first  opening, 
and  while  you  are  fifing  away  for  me,  I'll  go  around  for 
you,  Captain  Johns." 

"  Flammer,  you  going  to  go  in  for  Smithers,  to-night  ?" 
asks  another  of  "  the  party,"  of  a  confederate. 

"  Smithers  ?  I  don't  know  about  that ;  I  don't  think 
he's  the  right  kind  of  a  man  for  mayor,  any  how ;  do 
you  ?" 

"Well,  you  know  he's  an  almighty  peart  chap  in  talkin', 
and  I  guess  he'll  be  elected,  if  he's  nominated  and  goes  around 
speaking;  but  here  he  is;  let's  feel  his  pulse."  After  a 
confab  of  some  minutes  between  Flammer,  Smithers,  and 
Skyblue,  things  seem  to  be  fixed  to  mutual  satisfaction, 
and  someting  is  "  dropped". about  "go  in  for  me  for  the 
Mayoralty,  I'll  go  in  for  you  for  the  Senate,"  etc. 

"  Don't  let  on,  that  I'm  anxious,  at  all,  you  know,"  says 
Smithers,  to  which  the  two  allies  Skyblue  and  Flammer  re 
spond — "  0,  of  course  not!" 

Now  the  curtain  rises,  the  meeting's  organized,  with  as 
much  formality,  fuss  and  fungus  as  the  opening  of  the 
House  of  Parliament;  soon  is  heard  the  work  of  balloting 
for  nominations,  and  soon  it  is  known  that  Twist  is  the 
man  for  the  Senate — this  calls  Twist  out ;  he  spreads — feels 
overpowered — this  unexpected  (!)  event — attending  as  a 
spectator,  not  anticipating  any  thing  for  himself — proud  of 
the  unexpected  honor — had  long  served  as  a  private  in  the 
ranks  of  the  unterrified — die  in  the  front  of  battle,  if  his 
friends  thought  proper,  etc.,  etc.  And  Twist  falls  back, 
mid  great  applause  of  the  multitude,  to  give  way  to  Capt. 
Johns,  who  also  felt  overpowered  by  the  unexpected  rush 
of  honor  put  upon  him,  in  connecting  his  name  with  the 
senatorial  ticket.  He  was  proud  of  being  thought  capable 


64  THE    HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

of  serving  his  country,  etc.,  etc. ;  gave  his  friend  Pepper 
"a  first-rate  notice."  Pepper  was  nominated,  made  a 
speech,  and  so  highly  piled  up  the  agony  in  favor  of 
Smithers,  that  Smithers  was  nominated — made  a  speech  in 
favor  of  Skyblue  and  Flammer,  upon  the  force  of  which 
both  were  nominated — the  wheel  within  a  wheel  worked 
elegant ;  and  the  organs  next  day  were  sublimely  eloquent 
upon  the  result  of  the  grand  caucus — candidates — unani 
mity — etc.,  etc.,  of  these  subterranean  politicians.  So  are 
our  great  men  manufactured  for  the  public. 


Cntclftr, 

A  HARD-FISTED  "  old  hunker,"  who  has  made  $30,000  in 
fifty-one  years,  by  saving  up  rags,  old  iron,  bones,  soap- 
grease,  snipping  off  the  edges  of  halves,  quarters,  and  nine- 
pences,  raised  the  whole  neighborhood  t'other  evening. 
He  came  across  a  full-faced  Spanish  ninepence,  and  in  an 
attempt  to  extract  the  jaw-teeth  of  the  head,  the  poor 
thing  squealed  so,  that  the  bells  rang,  and  the  South  End 
watchmen  hollered  fire  for  about  an  hour !  This  "  old 
gentleman"  has  a  way  of  sweating  the  crosses  from  a 
smooth  fourpence,  and  makes  them  look  so  bran  new,  that 
he  passes  them  for  ten  cent  pieces  !  One  case  of  his  bene 
volence  is  "worthy  of  all  praise;"  he  recently  gave  away 
to  a  poor  Irishman's  family,  a  bunch  of  cobwebs,  and  an 
old  hat  he  had  worn  since  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill ;  upon 
these  bounties  the  Irishman  started  into  business ;  he  boiled 
the  hunker's  hat,  and  it  yielded  a  bar  of  soap  and  a  dozen 
tallow  candles !  If  old  Smearcase  continues  to  fool  away 
his  hard-earned  wealth  in  that  manner,  his  friends  ought  to 
buy  an  injunction  on  his  will! 


Slolf 


IN  1800  the  most  of  the  State  of  Ohio,  and  nearly  all 
of  Indiana,  was  a  dense  wilderness,  where  the  gaunt  wolf 
arid  naked  savage  were  masters  of  the  wild  woods  and  fer 
tile  plains,  which  now,  before  the  sturdy  blows  of  the  pio 
neer's  axe,  and  the  farmer's  plough,  has  been  with  almost 
magical  effect  converted  into  rich  farms  and  thriving,  beau 
tiful  villages. 

In  the  early  settlement  of  the  west,  the  pioneers  suffered 
not  only  from  the  ruthless  savage,  but  fearfully  from  the 
wolf.  Many  are  the  tales  of  terror  told  of  these  ferocious 
enemies  of  the  white  man,  and  his  civilization.  Many  was 
the  hunter,  Indian  as  well  as  the  Angle-Saxon,  whose 
bones,  made  marrowless  by  the  prowling  hordes  of  the  dark 
forest,  have  been  scattered  and  bleached  upon  the  war-path 
or  Indian  trail  of  the  back- woods.  In  1812-13,  my  father 
was  contractor  for  the  north-western  army,  under  command 
of  Gen.  Win.  Henry  Harrison.  He  supplied  the  army 
with  beef;  he  bought  up  cattle  along  the  Sciota  valley  and 
Ohio  river,  and  drove  them  out  to  the  army,  then  located 
at  Sandtisky.  Chillicothe,  then,  was  a  small  settlement  on 
the  Sciota  river,  and  protected  by  a  block  house  or  rude 
fort,  in  which  the  inhabitants  could  scramble  if  the  Indians 
made  their  appearance.  My  father  resided  here,  and  hav 
ing  collected  a  large  drove  of  cattle,  he  set  out  up  the  val 
ley  with  a  few  mounted  men  as  a  kind  of  guard  to  protect 
the  drove  against  the  prowling  minions  of  Tecumseh. 

The  third  day  out,  late  in  the  afternoon,  being  very  warm 
weather,  there  arose  a  most  terrific  thunder-storm ;  the 
huge  trees,  by  the  violence  of  the  wind  and  sharp  light- 
4  (65) 


66  HUMORS   OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

ning,  were  uprooted  and  rent  into  thousands  of  particles, 
and  the  panic-stricken  herd  scattered  in  every  direction.  I 
have  seen  the  havoc  made  in  forests  through  which  one  of 
these  tornadoes  has  taken  its  way,  or  I  should  be  incre 
dulous  to  suppose  whole  acres  of  trees,  hundreds  of  years 
old,  could  be  torn  up,  or  snapped  off  like  reeds  upon  the 
river  side. 

The  fury  of  the  whirlwind  seemed  to  increase  as  the  night 
grew  darker,  until  cattle,  men  and  horses,  were  killed,  crippled 
and  dispersed.  My  father  crawled  under  the  lee  of  a  large 
sycamore  that  had  fell,  and  here,  partly  protected  from  the 
rain  and  falling  timber,  he  lay  down.  I  have  camped  out 
some,  and  can  readily  anticipate  the  comfort  of  the  old  gen 
tleman's  situation,  and  not  at  all  disposed  was  he  to  go  to 
sleep  mounted  upon  such  guard. 

At  length  the  work  of  destruction  and  ruin  being  done, 
the  storm  abated,  the  rain  ceased  to  pour  and  the  winds  to 
wag  their  noisy  tongues  so  furiously.  A  wolf  Jiowl,  and  of 
all  fearful  howls,  or  yelps  uttered  by  beasts  of  prey,  none 
can,  I  think,  be  more  alarming  and  terrific  to  the  ear  than 
the  wolf  howl  as  he  scents  carnage.  A  wolf  howl  broke 
fearfully  upon  the  drover's  ear  as  he  lay  crouched  beneath 
the  sycamore.  It  was  a  familiar  sound,  and  therefore,  and 
then  the  more  dreadful.  The  drover  carried  a  good  Yeager 
rifle,  knife,  and  pistols,  but  a  man  laden  with  arms  in  the 
midst  of  a  troop  of  famished  wolves,  was  as  helpless  as  the 
tempest-tossed  mariner  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean's  storm. 
The  howl  had  scarcely  echoed  over  the  dark  wood,  before 
it  was  answered  by  dozens  on  every  side  !  And  as  the 
drover's  keen  eye  pierced  the  gloom  around  him,  the  danc 
ing,  fiery  glare  of  the  wolf's  eyes  met  his  wistful  gaze. 

The  forest  now  resounded  with  the  maddened  banquet 
ing  beast,  and  as  the  glaring  eyes  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
the  drover  hugged  his  Yeager  tightly,  and  prepared  to  de 
fend  life  while  yet  it  lasted.  Suddenly  the  sharp  crack 


THE   WOLF   SLAYER.  67 

of  a  rifle  was  heard,  and  then  a  loud  scream  or  cry  of  terror 
burst  upon  the  air,  a  rushing  sound,  a  man  pursued  by  a 
troop  of  wolves  fled  by  the  drover  and  his  cover ;  scream 
after  scream  rent  the  air,  and  the  drover  knew  that  a  com 
panion  had  fell  a  victim  to  the  wolf  in  his  attempt  at  self- 
defence.  The  night  was  a  long  one,  and  thus,  among  the 
savage  beasts,  a  fearful  one.  \  The  report  of  another  rifle 
again  broke  upon  the  ear,  and  again,  and  again  did  the 
hunting  iron  speak,  and  the  wolf  howl  salute  it,  A  pair 
of  eyes  glared  hurriedly  upon  the  drover,  and  he  could  not 
resist  the  desire  to  use  his  Yeager,  and  the  wolf  taking  the 
contents  of  the  rifle  in  his  mouth,  rolled  over,  while  a  score 
rushed  up  to  fill  his  place.  Oh  !  how  dreadful  must  have 
been  the  suspense  and  feelings  of  the  drover  as  he  lay 
crouched  under  the  old  tree,  surrounded  by  this  horde  of 
glaring  eyes,  his  ears  split  with  their  awful  howl,  and  their 
hot  and  .venomous  breath  fairly  in  his  face  !  But  the  wolf 
is  a  base  coward,  and  will  not  meet  a  man  eye  to  eye,  and 
so  protected  lay  the  drover,  with  his  clenched  teeth  and 
unquivering  eye,  that  the  wolf  had  no  chance  to  attack, 
but  by  rushing  up  to  his  very  front.  The  red  tongue 
lapped,  the  fierce  teeth  were  arrayed  and  the  demon  eyes 
glaring,  but  the  drover  quailed  not,  and  the  cowardly  wolf 
stood  at  bay.  The  sharp  crack  of  the  distant  rifle  still 
smote  upon  the  air  and  the  loud  howl  still  went  up  over  the 
forest  around.  The  first  faint  streaks  that  deck  the  sky  at 
morn,  the  fresh  breath  of  coming  day  caught  the  keen  scent 
of  the  bloody  prowlers,  and  they  began  to  skulk  off.  The 
drover  gave  the  retreating  cowards  a  farewell  shot  from  his 
pistols,  tumbled  a  lank,  grey  demon  over,  and  the  wolf  howl 
soon  died  off  in  the  distance. 

Daylight  now  appeared,  and  the  drover  crawled  from  his 
lair.  His  loud  whoop!  to  the  disbanded  men  and  drove 
was  answered  by  the  neigh  of  a  horse,  who  came  gallop 
ing  up,. and  proved  to  be  his  own  good  hunter,  who  seemed 


68  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

happy  indeed  to  meet  his  master.  Another  wlwop-e  brought 
a  responsive  shout,  and  finally  four  men  out  of  the  twelve, 
with  seven  horses  and  a  few  straggling  cattle,  were  mustered. 
The  forest  was  strewn  with  torn  carcasses  of  cattle  and 
horses,  mostly  killed  by  the  falling  timber,  and  partly  de 
voured  by  the  ravenous  wolves.  A  few  hundred  yards 
from  the  tree  where  the  drover  lay,  was  found  a  few  frag 
ments  of  clothes,  the  knife  and  rifle,  and  a  half-eaten  body 
of  one  of  the  soldiers.  He  had  fought  with  the  despera 
tion  of  a  mad  man,  and  the  dead  and  crippled  wolves  lay 
as  trophies  around  the  bold  soldier.  In  a  hollow  near  the 
river  they  found  a  horse  and  man  partly  eaten  up,  and  se 
veral  cattle  that  had  apparently  been  hotly  pursued  and  torn 
to  death  by  the  rapacious  beasts.  They  started  out  in 
search  of  the  spot  from  whence  the  drover  had  heard  the 
firing  in  the  night.  They  soon  discovered  the  place  ;  at  the 
foot  of  a  large  dead  sycamore  stump,  some  twelve  feet  high 
lay  the  carcasses  of  a  dozen  or  twenty  wolves.  Each  wolf 
had  his  scalp  neatly  taken  off,  and  his  head  elaborately 
bored  by  the  rifle  ball.  An  Indian  ladder,  that  is,  a  scrubby 
saplin',  trimmed  with  footholds  left  on  it,  was  laying  against 
the  old  tree,  at  the  top  of  which  was  a  sort  of  a  rude  scaf 
fold,  contrived,  evidently,  by  a  hunter.  At  a  distance,  in  a 
hollow,  was  seen  a  great  profusion  of  wolf  skulls  and  bones, 
but  no  sign  of  a  human  being  could  there  be  traced.  The 
party  made  a  fire,  and  as  beef  lay  plenty  around,  they  re 
galed  themselves  heartily,  after  their  night  of  horror  and 
disaster.  Having  finished  their  repast,  they  separated, 
each  taking  different  courses  to  hunt  and  drive  up  such  of 
the  stray  cattle  as  could  be  found.  My  father,  whom  I  have 
designated  as  the  drover,  pursued  his  way  over  the  vast 
piles  of  fallen,  tangled  timber,  leaping  from  one  tree  to  the 
other.  As  he  was  about  to  throw  himself  over  the  trunk 
of  a  mighty  prostrate  oak,  he  found  himself  within  two 
feet  of  one  of  the  largest  and  most  ferocious  wolves  that 


THE   WOLF   SLAYER.  69 

ever  expanded  its  broad  jaws  and  displayed  its  fierce  tushes 
to  the  eye  of  man.  Both  parties  were  taken  so  suddenly 
by  surprise,  by  this  collision,  that  they  seemed  to  be  rooted 
to  the  spot  without  power  to  move.  I  have  heard  of  ser 
pents  charming  birds,  said  the  drover,  but  I  never  believed 
in  the  theory  until  I  found  myself  fairly  magnetized  by  this 
great  she-wolf.  The  wolf  stood  and  snarled  with  its  golden 
fiery  eye  bent  upon  the  drover,  who  never  moved  his  steady 
gaze  from  the  wolf's  face. 

There  is  not  a  beast  in  existence  that  will  attack  a  man 
if  he  keeps  his  eyes  steady  upon  the  animal,  but  will  cower 
and  sneak  off,  and  so  did  the  wolf.  But  no  sooner  had  she 
turned  her  head  and  with  a  howl  started  off,  than  a  blue 
pill  from  the  drover's  Yeager  split  her  skull,  and  brought 
her  career  to  a  speedy  termination. 

Whoo-ep  ! 

A  shout  so  peculiar  to  the  lusty  lungs  of  the  western 
hunter  made  the  welkin  ring  again,  and  as  the  astonished 
drover  turned  towards  the  shouter,  he  beheld  a  sight  that 
proved  quite  as  formidable  as  the  wolf  he  had  just  slain. 

"Well  done,  stranger;  you're  the  man  for  me ;  I  like 
you.  That  shot  done  my  heart  good,  though  I  was  about 
to  do  the  old  she  devil's  business  for  ye,  seeing  as  you  war 
sort  o'  close  quartered  with  the  varmint." 

"Thank  you,"  responded  the  drover,  addressing  the 
speaker,  a  tall,  gaunt,  iron-featured,  weather-beaten  figure, 
with  long  grey  hair,  and  a  rude  suit  of  wolf-skin  clothing, 
cap  and  moccasins.  He  held  in  his  long  arms  a  large  rifle, 
a  knife  in  his  belt,  and  a  powder  horn  slung  over  his  side. 
He  seemed  the  very  patriarch  of  the  woods,  but  good  hu 
mored,  and  with  his  rough  hilarity  soon  explained  his  pre 
sence  there. 

"Well,  stranger,"  said  he,  "you  have  had  a  mighty 
chance  of  bad  luck  ycr  last  night,  and  I  never  saw  them 
cursed  varmints  so  crazy  afore." 


70  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

11  Do  you  live  in  these  parts  ?"  inquired  the  drover. 

"Ha!  ha!  yes,  yes,"  replied  the  hunter.  "I  live  yer, 
I  live  anywhar's  whar  wolf  can  be  found.  But  you  don't 
know  me,  I  reckon,  stranger  ?" 

"  I  do  not,"  said  the  drover. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  well,  that's  qnare,  mighty  quare.  I  thought 
thar  waru't  a  man  this  side  the  blue  ridge  but  what  knows 
me  and  old  kit  here,  (his  rifle.)  Well,  seeing  you  are  a 
stranger,  I'll  just  take  that  old  sarpent's  top-knot  off,  and 
have  a  talk  with  ye." 

With  this  introductory  of  matters,  the  hunter  in  the  wolf 
skins  scalped  the  wolf,  and  tucking  the  scalp  in  his  belt, 
motioned  the  drover  to  follow.  He  led  the  way  in  deep 
silence  some  half  a  mile  to  a  small  stream,  down  which 
they  proceeded  for  some  distance,  until  they  came  to  a  low 
and  rudely-constructed  cabin.  Here  the  hunter  requested 
the  drover  to  take  a  seat  on  a  log,  in  front  of  the  cabin, 
while  he  entered  through  a  small  aperture  in  his  hut, 
and  brought  forth  a  pipe,  tobacco,  and  some  dried  meat. 
These  dainties  being  discussed,  old  Nimrod  the  mean  time 
kept  chuckling  to  himself,  and  mumbling  over  the  idea  that 
there  should  be  a  white  man  or  Ingin  this  side  the  blue 
ridge  that  didn't  know  him. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  well,  well,  I  swar,  it  is  curious,  stranger,  that 
you  don't  know  me,  me  that  kin  show  more  Ingin  skelps 
than  any  white  man  that  ever  trod  these  war  paths ;  me, 
who  kin  shoot  more  wolves  and  fetch  in  more  of  the  var 
mints'  skelps  in  one  night  than  any  white  man  or  Iiigin  that 
ever  trod  this  wilderness.  But  I'm  gittin  old,  very  old, 
forgotten,  and  here  comes  a  white  man  clean  and  straight 
from  the  settlements  and  he  don't  know  me  ;  I  swar  I've 
lived  to  be  clean  ashamed  o'  myself."  And  with  this  soli 
loquy,  half  to  himself  and  partly  addressed  to  the  drover, 
the  old  hunter  seemed  almost  lit  to  cry,  at  his  imaginary 
insignificance  and  dotage. 


THE  WOLF  SLAYER.  71 

"But,  friend,"  said  the  drover,  "as  you  have  not  yet  in 
formed  me  by  what  name  I  may  call  you — " 

"  Call  me,  stranger  ?  why  I  am" — and  here  his  eyes 
glared  as  he  threw  himself  into  a  heroic  attitude — "  Chris 
Green,  old  Chris  Green,  the  wolf  slayer!  But,  God  bless 
ye,  stranger,  p'r'aps  you're  from  t'other  side  the  ridge,  and 
don't  know  old  Chris's  history." 

11  That  I  frankly  admit,"  replied  the  drover. 

"Well,  God  bless  ye,  I  love  my  fellow  white  men,  yes,  I 
do,  th'ough  I  live  yer  by  myself,  and  clothe  myself  with  the 
varmints'  skins,  go  but  seldom  to  the  settlements,  and  live 
on  what  old  kit  thar  provides  me. 

"  Well,  stranger,  my  history's  a  mighty  mournful  one, 
but  as  yer  unlucky  like  myself  and  plenty  of  business  to 
'tend  to  'fore  night,  I'll  make  my  troubles  short  to  ye. 

"  Well,  you  see  about  thirty  years  ago,  I  left  the  blue 
ridge  with  a  party  of  my  neighbors  to  come  down  yer  in 
the  Sciota  country,  to  see  it,  and  lay  plans  to  drive  the 
cussed  red  skins  clean  out  of  it.  Well,  the  red  skins 
appeared  rather  quiet,  what  few  we  fell  in  with,  and 
monstrous  civil.  But  cuss  the  sarpints,  there's  no  more 
dependence  to  be  put  in  'em  than  the  catankerous  wolves, 
and  roast  'em,  I  always  sets  old  kit  talkin'  Dutch  to 
them  varmints,  the  moment  I  claps  eyes  on  'em.  The 
wolf's  my  nat'ral  inimy — I'd  walk  forty  miles  to  git  old  kit 
a  wolf  skelp.  Well,  we  travelled  all  over  the  valley,  and 
we  gin  it  as  our  opinion  that  the  Sciota  country  was  the 
garden  spot  o'  the  world,  and  if  we  could  only  defend  our 
selves  'gainst  the  inimy  we  should  move  right  down  yer  at 
once.  We  went  back  home,  and  the  next  spring  a  hull 
settlement  on  us  came  down  yer.  My  neighbors  thought 
it  best  for  us  all  to  settle  down  together  at  Chillicotbe,  whar 
a  few  Ingin  huts  and  cabins  war.  I  had  a  wife,  and  son 
and  da'ter ;  now,  stranger,  I  loved  'em  as  dearer  to  me  'nor 
life  or  heart's  blood  itself.  Well,  the  red  skins  soon  began 


72  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

to  show  their  pranks — they  stole  our  cre'ters  (horses),  shot 
down  our  cattle,  and  made  all  manner  o'  trouble  for  the 
little  settlement.  At  last  I  proposed  we  should  build  a 
clever-sized  block  house,  strong  and  stanch,  in  which  our 
wimen  folks  and  children,  with  a  few  men  to  guard  'em, 
could  hold  out  a  few  clays,  while  a  handful  o'  us  scoured 
Paint  hills  and  the  country  about,  and  peppered  a  few  of 
the  cussed  red  devils.  We  had  been  out  some  four  or  five 
days  when  we  fell  in  with  the  inimy ;  it  war  just  about 
sunset,  and  the  red  skins  war  camped  in  a  hollow  close  by 
this'spot.  We  intended  to  let  'em  get  through  their  smok 
ing  and  stretch  themselves  for  the  night,  and  then  squar 
our  accounts  with  'em.  Stranger,  I've  lived  in  these  woods 
thirty  years,  I  never  saw  such  a  hurricane  as  we  had  yer 
last  night,  'cept  once.  The  night  we  lay  in  ambush  for  the 
Ingins,  six-and-twenty  years  ago,  thar  came  up  a  hurricane, 
the  next  mornin'  eleven  of  the  bodies  of  my  neighbors  lay 
crushed  along  the  bottom  yer,  and  for  a  hundred  miles 
along  the  Sciota,  whar  the  hurricane  passed,  the  great 
walnuts  and  sycamore  lay  blasted,  root  and  branch,  just  as 
straight  as  ye'd  run  a  bee  line  ;  no  timber  grow'd  upon 
these  bottoms  since.  Five  on  us  escaped  the  hurricane, 
but  before  day  we  fell  in  with  a  large  party  of  red  skins, 
and  we  fought  'em  like  devils  ;  three  on  us  fell ;  myself  and 
the  only  neighbor  left  war  obliged  to  fly  to  the  hills.  I 
made  my  way  to  the  settlement. 

"  Stranger,  when  I  looked  down  from  the  hills  of  Paint 
creek,  and  saw  the  block  house  scattered  over  the  bottom, 
and  not  a  cabin  standin'  or  a  livin'  cre'ter  to  be  seen  in  the 
settlement  of  Chillicothe,  my  heart  left  me ;  I  become  a 
woman  at  once,  and  sot  down  and  cry'd  as  if  I'd  been 
whipped  to  death."  The  old  man's  voice  grew  husky,  and 
the  tears  suffused  his  eyes,  but  after  a  few  sighs  and  a  tear, 
he  proceeded  : 

"Well,  you  see,  stranger,  a  man  cannot  always  be  a  child, 


THE   WOLF   SLAYER.  73 

nor  a  woman,  either  ;  my  crying  spell  appeared  to  ease  my 
heart  amazin'ly.  I  shouldered  old  kit  here,  and  down  I 
went  to  examine  things.  The  hurricane  had  scattered 
every  thing  ;  the  fire  had  been  at  work  too,  but,  great  God  ! 
the  bloody  wolf  had  been  thar,  the  settlement  was  kivered 
with  the  bloody  bones  of  my  own  family  and  friends  ;  if  any 
Il*d  escaped  the  hurricane,  the  fire  or  wolf,  the  Ingins  fin 
ished  'em,  for  I  never  seen  'em  afterwards  ;  I  couldn't  bear 
to  stay  about  the  place,  I'd  no  home,  friend,  or  kindred.  I 
took  to  the  woods,  and  swore  eternal  death  to  the  red  skins 
and  my  nat'ral  inimy,  the  wolf!  I've  been  true  to  my 
word,  stranger  ;  that  cabin  is  lined  with  skelps  and  orna 
mented  with  Ingin  top-knots  !  Look  in,  ha!  ha  !  see  there  ! 
they  may  well  call  old  Chris  the  Wolf  Slayer!" 

The  drover  regaled  his  eyes  on  the  trophies  of  the  old 
forlorn  hunter,  and  then  visited  the  perch,  which  was  situ 
ated  close  by  a  "  deer  lick,"  where  wolves  resorted  to  fall 
upon  their  victims.  And  from  this  perch  old  Wolf  Slayer 
had  made  fearful  work  upon  his  nat'ral  inimy  the  night  pre 
vious.  The  old  hunter  assisted,  during  the  day,  to  collect 
such  of  the  scattered  drove  as  yet  were  alive  or  to  be  found  ; 
the  men  came  with  another  of  their  companions,  and  the 
small  drove  and  men  left  the  scene  of  terror  and  disaster, 
wishing  a  God-speed  to  the  Wolf  Slayer. 


Stmt  %t  fcntfo  'rat  p. 


IF  you  have  ever  "  been  around"  some,  and  taken  notfce 
of  things,  you  have  doubtless  seen  the  man  who  knows 
pretty  much  every  thing  and  every  body  ! 

I've  seen  them  frequently.  As  the  old  preacher  observed 
to  a  venerable  lady,  in  reference  to  forerunners,  "I  see 
'em  now."  Well,  talking  of  that  rare  arid  curious  speci 
men  of  the  human  family,  the  man  that  knows  every  body, 
I've  rather  an  amusing  reminiscence  of  "one  of  'em." 
Stopping  over  night  at  the  Virginia  House,  in  that  jump 
ing  off  place  of  Western  Virginia,  Wheeling,  some  years 
ago,  I  had  the  pleasure  or  pastime  of  meeting  several  of 
the  big  guns  of  the  nation,  on  their  way  from  Washington 
city,  home.  It  was  in  August,  I  think,  when,  as  is  most 
generally  the  case,  the  Ohio  river  gets  monstrous  low  and 
feeble  ;  when  all  of  the  large  steamers  are  past  getting  up 
so  far,  and  travelling  down  the  river  becomes  quite  amus 
ing  to  amateurs,  and  particularly  tedious  and  monotonous 
to  business  people,  bound  home.  Three  hundred  travellers, 
more  or  less,  were  laying  back  at  the  "Virginia"  and 
"  United  States,"  in  the  aforesaid  hardscrabble  of  a  city, 
or  town,  waiting  for  the  river  to  get  up,  or  some  means  for 
them  to  get  down. 

The  session  of  Congress  had  closed  at  Washington,  some 
time  before,  and  as  almost  all  of  the  M.  C.'s,  U.  S.  S.'s, 
wire  pullers,  hangers  on,  blacklegs,  horse  jockeys,  etc.,  etc., 
came  over  "the  National  Road"  to  Wheeling,  to  take  the 
river  for  Southern  and  Western  destinations,  of  course  the 
assemblage  at  that  place,  at  that  time,  was  promiscuous, 
and  quite  interesting;  at  least,  Western  and  Southern  men 
(74) 


THE   MAN   THAT   KNEW   'EM   ALL.  75 

always  make  themselves  happy  and  interesting,  home  or 
abroad,  and  particularly  so  when  travelling.  It  was  a  glo 
rious  thing  for  the  proprietors  of  the  hotels,  to  have  such 
a  host  of  guests,  as  a  house  full  of  company  always  is  a 
"host,"  the  guests  having  nothing  else  to  do  but  lay  back, 
eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  and  foot  the  bills  when  ready,  or 
when  opportunity  offers,  to go. 

They  drank  and  smoked,  and  drank  again,  and  told  jests, 
and  played  games  and  tricks,  and  thus  passed  the  time 
along.  Among  the  multitude  was  one  of  those  ever-talka 
tive  and  chanting  men  of  the  world,  who  knew  all  places 
and  all  men — as  he  would  have  it.  Just  after  removing  the 
cloth,  at  dinner,  a  knot  of  the  old  jokers,  bacchanalians  and 
wits,  settled  away  in  a  cluster,  at  the  far  end  of  a  long 
table,  and  were  having  a  very  pleasant  time.  The  man  of 
all  talk  was  there ;  he  was  the  very  nucleus  of  all  that  was 
being  said  or  done.  He  was  from  below,  somewhere,  on 
his  way,  as  he  informed  the  crowd,  to  Washington  city, 
upon  affairs  of  no  slight  importance  to  himself  and  the 
country  in  general. 

"Oho  !"  says  one  of  the  party,  a  sly,  winking,  fat  and 
rosy  gentleman,  whom  we  shall  designate  hereafter,  "you're 
bound  to  the  capital,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  responded  the  man  of  all  talk. 

"  Of  course  you've  been  there  before  ?"  says  the  inter 
rogator,  nudging  a  friend,  and  winking  at  the  rest. 

"  V/hat?  Me  been  in  Washington  before?  Ha,  ha! 
me  been  there  before  !  Bless  you,  me  been  ii\  Washington 
city  1" 

"  Oho  !  ha,  ha  !"  says  the  interrogator,  "you're  one  of 
the  caucus  folks,  eh  ?  One  of  them  wire  pullers  we  read 
about,  eh  ?" 

"  Me  ?  Caucus  ?  Ha,  ha  !  Mum's  the  word,  gents, 
(looking  killingly  cunning.)  Come,  gentlemen,  let's  fill  up. 
Ha,  ha!  me  pulling  the— ha,  ha!  Well,  here's  to  the  old 


76  HUMORS   OP  FALCONBRIDGE. 

Constitution  ;  let's  hang  by  her,  while  there's  a — a — a  but 
ton  on  Jabe's  coat." 

And  they  all  responded,  of  course,  to  this  eloquent  sen 
timent. 

"  Here's  to  Jabe's  buttons,  coat,  hat,  and  breeches." 

"  Excuse  me,"  continued  the  first  operator,  after  the 
toast  was  wet  down,  "you'll  please  excuse  me,  in  behalf 
of  some  of  my  friends  here  ;  as  you've  been  down  in  that 
dratted  place,  and  must  know  a  good  deal  of  the  goings  on 
there,  I'd  like  to  inquire  about  a  few  things  we  Western 
folks  don't  more  than  get  an  inkling  of,  through  the 
papers." 

"  Certainly;  go  on,  sir,"  says  the  victim,  assuming  all  the 
dignity  and  depth  of  a  man  that's  appealed  to  to  settle  a 
ponderous  matter. 

"  I'd  like  to  inquire  if  those  Kitchen  Cabinet  disclosures 
of  the  Pennsylvania  Senator,  were  true.  Had  you  ever  any 
means  of  satisfying  yourself  that  there  is,  or  was,  a  real  ser 
vice  of  gold  in  the  President's  house  ?" 

"  Aye  !  that's  what  we'd  all  like  to  know,"  says  another. 

"  How  many  pieces  were  there  ?" 

"  What  were  they  ?" 

"  Aye,  and  what  their  heft  was  ?" 

"  Mum,  gentlemen  ;  let's  drink — no  tales  out  of  school, 
ha,  ha  1  No,  no — mum's  the  word."  And  looking  funny 
and  deep,  merry  and  wise,  all  at  one  and  the  same  time,  the 
man  of  all  talk  proposed  to  drink  and  keep mum. 

But  they  wouldn't  drink,  and  insisted  on  the  secret  being 
let  out — they  wanted  a  decided  and  positive  answer,  from  a 
man  who  knew  the  ropes. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  victim,  dropping  his  voice  into  a 
sort  of  melo-dramatic  stage  whisper,  and  stooping  quite 
over  the  table,  so  as  to  collect  the  several  heads  and  ears 
as  close  into  a  phalanx  as  possible  :  "  gentlemen,  iCs  a  fact!" 

"  What  ?"  says  the  party. 


THE   MAN   THAT   KNEW   'EM   ALL.  77 

"All  gold  1"  says  the  victim. 

"A  gold  service  ?"  inquires  the  party. 

"  Thirty-eight  pieces  !"  continued  the  victim. 

"  Solid  gold  ?"  chimed  the  rest. 

"  Just  half  a  ton  in  heft  /" 

"You  don't  tell  us  that?19 

11  Know  it ;  eat  out  of  'em,  then  weighed  'em  all!" 

"  P-h-e-w !"  whistled  some,  while  others  went  into 
stronger  exclamations. 

"  Fact,  by  the  great " 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,  sir  ;  no  doubt  of  it  now,  sir,"  said 
the  mover  of  the  business,  grasping  the  victim's  upraised  arm. 

"  Then,  of  course,  sir,  you're  well  acquainted  with  Matty 
Yan  ;  on  good  terms  with  the  little  Magician,"  continued 
the  leading  wag. 

"  Jfe?  me  on  good  terms  with  Matty  ?  Ha,  ha!  that  is 
a  good  joke  ;  never  go  to  Washington  without  cracking  a 
bottle  with  the  little  fox,  and  staying  over  night  with  him. 
Me  on  good  terms  with  Matty  ?  We've  had  many  a  spree 
together  !  Yes,  sir!"  and  the  knowing  one  winked  right  and 
left. 

"Well,  there's  old  Bullion,"  continued  one  of  the  inter 
rogators,  a  fine  portly  old  gent,  "  you  know  him,  of  course  ?" 

"  What,  Tom  Benton  ?  Bless  your  souls,  I  don't  know 
my  letters  half  as  well  as  I  know  old  Tom." 

"And  Bill  Allen,  of  Ohio?"  asked  another.  "What 
sort  of  a  fellow  is  Bill  ?" 

"Bill  Allen  ?  Lord  0  !  isn't  he  a  coon  ?  Bill  Allen  ? 
I  wish  I  had  a  dime  for  every  horn,  and  game  of  bluff,  we've 
had  together." 

41  Well,  there's  another  of  'em,"  inquiringly  asked  a  fat, 
farmer-looking  old  codger  :  "  Dr.  Duncan,  how's  he  stand 
down  there  about  Washington  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  he's  a  pretty  good  sort  of  an  old  chap,  but, 
gents,  between  you  and  I,  (with  another  whisper,)  there  is 


- 


78  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

a  good  deal  of  the  '  old  fogie'  senna  and  salts  about  him. 
But  then  he's  death  and  the  pale  hoss  on  poker." 
"  What,  Doctor  Duncan  ?"  says  they. 
"  Why,  y-e-e-s,  of  course.     Didn't  he  skin  me  out  of  my 
watch  last  winter,  playing  poker,  at  Willard's?" 

"  Well,"  continued  the  fat  farmer-looking  man,  "  I  didn't 
know  Duncan  gambled?" 

"Mum,  not  a  word  out  of  school;  ha,  ha!  Let's  drink, 
gents.  Gamble  ?  Lord  bless  you,  it's  common  as  dish-wa 
ter  down  there — I've  played  euchre  for  hours  with  old  Tom 
Benton,  Harry  Clay  and  Gen.  Scott,  right  behind  the  speak 
er 's  chair!" 

Then  they  all  drank,  of  course,  and  some  of  the  party 
liked  to  have  choked.  The  company  now  proposed  to  ad 
journ  to  the  smoking  room,  and  they  arose  and  left  the 
table  accordingly.  The  man  of  all  talk  promenaded  out 
on  to  the  steps,  and  in  course  of  half  an  hour,  says  the 
leading  spirit  of  the  late  dinner,  or  wine  party,  to  him  : — 

«Mr. a— a—?" 

"  Ferguson,  sir  ;  George  Adolplms  Ferguson  is  my  ad 
dress,  sir,"  responded  the  victim. 

"  Mr.  Ferguson,  did  you  know  that  your  friend  Benton 
was  in  town  ?"  inquired  the  wag. 

"  What,  Tom  Benton  here  ?" 

"  And  Allen,"  continued  the  wag. 

"What,  Bill  Allen,  too  ?"  says  the  victim. 

"And  Doctor  Duncan." 

"  You  don't  tell  me  all  them  fellows  are  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  your  friends  are  all  here.  Come  in  and  see 
them  ;  your  friends  will  be  delighted,"  says  the  wag,  taking 
Mister  Ferguson  by  the  arm,  to  lead  him  in. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  I'm  a — a — ha,  ha !  won't  we  have  a  time  ?  But 
you  just  step  in — I  a — I'll  be  in  in  one  moment,"  but  in  less 
than  half  the  time,  Mr.  Ferguson  mizzled,  no  one  knew 
whither ! 


A   SEVERE   SPELL    OF    SICKNESS.  79 

The  gentlemen  at  the  table,  it  is  almost  needless  to  say, 
were  no  others  than  Benton,  Allen,  Duncan,  and  some  three 
or  four  other  arbiters  of  the  fate  of  our  immense  and  glo 
rious  nation,  in  her  councils,  and  fresh  from  the  capital. 

Ferguson  has  not  been  heard  of  since. 


0f  Sickness. 

IT  is  the  easiest  thing  under  heaven  to  be  sick,  if  you 
can  afford  it.  What  it  costs  some  rich  men  for  family 
sickness  per  annum,  would  keep  all  the  children  in  "a  poor 
neighborhood"  in  "  vittels"  find  clothes  the  year  round. 
When  old  Cauliflower  took  sick,  once  in  a  long  life-time,  he 
was  prevailed  upon  to  send  for  Dr.  Borax,  and  it  was  some 
weeks  before  Cauliflower  got  down  stairs  again.  At  the  end 
of  the  year  Dr.  Borax  sent  in  his  bill ;  the  amount  gave 
Cauliflower  spasms  in  his  pocket-book,  and  threatened  a 
whole  year's  profits  with  strangulation. 

"Doctor,"  says  Cauliflower,  "that  bill  of  yours  is  all- 
fired  steep,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  says  Borax  ;  "  your  case  was  a  dangerous  case 
— I  never  raised  a  man  from  the  grave  with  such  difficulty, 
in  all  my  practice  !" 

"  But,  fifty-three  calls,  doctor,  one  hundred  and  six  dol 
lars." 

"  Exactly — two  dollars  a  visit,  sir,"  said  the  urbane  doctor. 

"  And  twenty-seven  prescriptions,  four  plasters,  &c. — 
eighty-one  dollars !" 

"  One  hundred  and  eighty-seven  dollars,  sir." 

"  Well,"  says  Cauliflower,  "  this  may  be  all  very  well  for 
people  who  can  at-ford  it,  but  I  can't;  there's  youi  money, 
doctor,  but  I'll  bet  you  won't  catch  me  sick  as  that  again — 
soon  /" 


0f 

IN  183-,  it  chanced  in  the  big  city  of  New  York,  that 
the  aldermen  elect  were  a  sort  of  tie;  that  is,  so  many 
whigs  and  so  many  democrats.  Such  a  thing  did  not  occur 
often,  the  democracy  usually  having  the  supremacy.  They 
generally  had  things  pretty  much  all  their  own  way,  and 
distributed  their  favors  among  their  partizans  accordingly. 
The  whigs  at  length  tied  them,  and  the  locos,  beholding 
with  horror  and  misgivings,  the  new  order  of  things  which 
was  destined  to  turn  out  many  a  holder  of  fat  office,  many 
a  pat-riot  overflowing  with  democratic  patriotism,  whose 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  country  was  manifest  in  the 
tenacity  with  which  he  clung  to  his  place,  were  extremely 
anxious  to  devise  ways  and  means  to  keep  the  whigs  at 
bay  ;  and  as  the  day  drew  near,  when  the  assembled  Board  of 
Aldermen  should  have  their  sitting  at  the  City  Hall,  various 
dodges  were  proposed  by  the  locos  to  out-vote  the  whigs,  in 
questions  or  decisions  touching  the  distribution  of  places, 
and  appointment  of  men  to  fill  the  various  stations  of  the 
new  municipal  government. 

"I  have  it— I've  got  it  1"  exclaimed  a  round  and  jolly 
alderman  of  a  democratic  ward.  "  To-night  the  Board 
meets— we  stand  about  eight  and  eight— this  afternoon,  let 

two  of  us  invite  two  of  the  whigs,  Alderman  II and 

Alderman  J ,  out  to  a  dinner  at  Harlem,  get   H 

and  J tight  as  wax,  and  then  we  can  slip  off,  take  our 

conveyance,  come  in,  and  vote  the  infernal  whigs  just  where 
we  want  them  !" 

"  Capital  I  prime  !     Ha,  ha,  ha  !"  says  one. 
"  First  rate  !  elegant !  ha,  ha,  ha  1"  shouts  another, 
(80) 


THE   RACE   OF   THE   ALDERMEN.  81 

"  Ha,  ha  !  haw  !  haw  !  he,  he,  he  !"  roared  all  the  locys. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  let's  all  throw  in  a  Y  apiece,  to  defray 
expenses  ;  we,  you  know,  of  course,  must  put  the  whigs 
through,  and  we  must  give  them  a  rouse  they  won't  forget 
soon.  Champagne  and  turtle,  that's  the  ticket ;  coach  for 
four  out  and  two  in.  Ha,  ha ! — The  whigs  shall  see  the 
.elephant !" 

Well,  the  purse  was  made  up,  the  coach  hired,  and  the 
two  victims,  the  poor  whigs,  were  carted  out  under  the 
pretence  of  a  grand  alder-manic  feast  to  Harlem,  the  scene 
of  many  a  spree  and  jollification  with  the  city  fathers,  and 
other  bon  vivants  and  gourmands  of  Gotham. 

Dinner  fit  for  an  emperor  being  discussed,  sundry  bottles 
of  "Sham"  were  uncorked,  and  their  effervescing  contents 
decanted  into  the  well-fed  bodies  of  the  four  aldermen. 
Toasts  and  songs,  wit  and  humor,  filled  up  the  time,  until 
the  democrats  began  to  think  it  was  time  that  one  of  them 
slipped  out,  took  the  carriage  back  to  the  city,  leaving  the 
other  to  fuddle  the  two  whigs,  and  detain  them  until  affairs 
at  "  the  Tea  Room,"  City  Hall,  were  settled  to  the  entire 
satisfaction  of  the  democrats. 

"  Landlord,"  says  one  of  the  democrats,  whom  we  will 
call  Brown,  "  landlord,  have  you  any  conveyance,  horses, 
wagons,  carriages  or  carts,  by  which  any  of  my  friends 
could  go  back  to  town  to-night,  if  they  wish  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  the  landlord,  "  certainly— I  can  send  the 
gentlemen  in  if  they  wish." 

"Very  well,  sir,— they  may  get  very  tigU  before  they 
desire  to  return— they  are  men  of  families,  respectable  citi 
zens,  and  I  do  not  wish  them,  under  any  circumstances,  to 
leave  your  house  until  morning.  Whatever  the  bill  is  I  will 
foot,  provided  you  deny  them  any  of  your  means  to  go  in 
to-night.  You  understand !" 

"  Oh !  yes,  sir— if  you  request  it  as  a  matter  of  favor, 
5 


82  HUMORS   OF   FALCONERIDGE. 

that  I  shall  keep  your  friends  here,  I  will  endeavor  to  do 
so — but  hadn't  you  better  attend  to  them  yourself  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,"  says  Brown,  "I  have  business  of  im 
portance  to  transact — must  be  in  town  this  evening.  Give 
the  party  all  they  wish — put  that  in  your  fob — (handing  the 
host  an  X) — post  up  your  biil  in  the  morning,  and  I'll  be 
out  bright  and  early  to  make  all  square.  Do  you  hark  ?" 
says  Brown. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir — all  right,"  responded  the  landlord. 

Brown  gave  his  confederate  the  cue,  stepped  out,  pro 
mising  to  "  be  in  in  a  minute,"  and  then,  getting  into  a 
carriage,  he  drove  back  to  the  city,  almost  tickled  to  death 
with  the  idea  of  how  nicely  the  whigs  would  be  "  dished" 
when  they  all  met  at  the  City  Hall,  and  came  up  minus  two! 

Smith,  Brown's  loco  friend,  did  his  best  to  keep  the 
thing  up,  by  calling  in  the  New  Jersey  thunder  and  light 
ning — vulgarly  known  as  Champagne — and  even  walked 
into  the  aforesaid  t.  and  1.  so  deeply  himself,  that  a  man  with 
half  an  eye  might  see  Smith  would  be  as  blind  as  an  owl 
in  the  course  of  the  evening.  But  Smith  was  bound  to  do 
the  thing  up  brown,  and  thought  no  sacrifice  too  great  or 
too  expensive  to  preserve  the  loaves  and  fishes  of  his  party. 
All  of  a  sudden,  however,  night  was  drawing  on  a  pace, 
the  whigs  began  to  smell  a  mice.  The  absence  of  Brown, 
and  the  excessive  politeness  and  liberality  of  Smith,  in  hur 
rying  up  the  bottles,  settled  it  in  the  minds  of  the  whigs, 
that  something  was  going  on  dangerous  to  the  whig  cause, 
and  that  they  had  better  look  out — and  so  they  did. 

"Jones,"  says  one  of  the  whigs,  sotlo  voce,  to  the  other, 
"  Brown  has  cleared  ;  it  is  evident  he  and  Smith  calculate 
to  corner  us  here,  prevent  your  presence  in  '  the  Tea  Room' 
to-night,  and  thus  defeat  your  vote." 

"  The  deuce  !  You  don't  think  that,  Hall,  do  you  ?" 

"  Faith,  I  do  ;  but  we  won't  be  caught  napping.  Waiter, 
bring  in  a  bottle  of  brandy." 


THE   RACE   OF   THE   ALDERMEN.  83 

"Brandy?"  said  Smith,  in  astonishment.  "Why,  you 
ain't  going  to  dive  right  into  it,  in  that  way,  are  you  ?" 

"Why  not?"  says  Hall.  "Brandy's  the  best  thing  in 
the  world  to  settle  your  nerves  after  getting  half  fuddled 
on  Champagne,  my  boy  ;  just  you  try  it — take  a  good  stiff 
horn.  Brown,  you  see,  has  cut,  we  must  follow  ;  so  let's 
straighten  up  and  get  ready  for  a  start.  Here's  to  '  the 
loaves  and  fishes.' ':  Jones  and  Hall  took  their  horns  of 
Cogniac,  which  does  really  make  some  men  sober  as  judges 
after  they  are  very  drunk  on  real  or  spurious  Champagne. 

"Well,"  says  Smith,  "  it's  my  opinion  we'll  all  be  very 
tight  going  in  this  way,  brandy  on  Champagne  ;  but  here 
goes  to  the  fishes  and  loaves — the  loaves  and  fishes,  I 
mean." 

The  brandy  had  a  rather  contrary  effect  from  what  it  does 
usually ;  it  did  settle  Smith — in  five  minutes  he  was  so  very 
"  boozy"  that  his  chin  bore  down  upon  his  breast,  he  be 
came  as  "  limber  as  a  rag,"  and  snored  like  a  pair  of  bag 
pipes. 

"Now,  Jones,"  says  Hall,  "let's  be  off.  Landlord,  get 
us  a  gig,  wagon,  carriage,  cart,  any  thing,  and  let's  be  off ; 
we  must  be  in  town  immediately." 

"  Sorry,  gentlemen,  but  can't  oblige  you — haven't  a  ve 
hicle  on  the  premises  !" 

"Why,  confound  it,  you  don't  pretend  to  say  you  can't 
send  us  into  town  to-night,  do  you  ?"  says  Jones,  waxing 
uneasy. 

"  Haven't  you  a  horse,  jackass,  mule  or  a  wheelbarrow — 
any  thing,  so  we  can  be  carted  in,  right  off,  too  ?"  says 
Hall. 

"  Can't  help  it,  gentlemen." 

"What  time  do  the  cars  come  along  ?"  eagerly  inquires 
Jones. 

"About  nine  o'clock,"  coolly  replies  the  host. 

"Nine  fools  !"  shouted  the  discomfited  alderman.    "But 


84  HUMORS   OF  FALCONBRIDGE. 

this  won't  do  ;  come,  Jones,  no  help  for  it — can't  fool  ns  in 
that  way — eight  miles  to  the  City  Hall — two  hours  to  do  it 
in  ;  off  coat  and  let's  foot  it  /"  *  *  *  * 

The  City  Hall  clock  had  just  struck  T  p.  M.,  the  Tea 
Room  was  lighted  up,  the  assembled  wisdom  of  the  muni 
cipal  government  had  their  toadies,  and  reporters  and  look 
ers-on  were  there ;  the  room  was  quite  full.  Brown  was 
there,  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  the  locos  all  fairly  snorted 
with  glee  at  the  scientific  manner  in  which  Brown  had 
"done"  Jones  and  Hall  out  of  their  votes!  The  business 
of  the  evening  was  climaxing  :  the  whigs  missing  two  of 
their  number,  were  in  quite  a  spasm  of  doubt  and  fear. 
The  chairman  called  the  meeting  to  order.  The  roll  was 
called  :  seven  "  good  and  true"  locos  answered  the  call. 
Six  whigs  had  answered  :  the  seventh  was  being  called  :  the 
locos  were  grinning,  and  twisting  their  fingers  at  the  apex 
of  their  noses  ! 

"Alderman  Jones  !  Alderman  Jones!"  bawled  the  roll- 
caller. 

"  Here  !"  roared  the  missing  individual,  bursting  into  the 
room. 

"  Alderman  Hall !"  continued  the  roll. 

"  Here  !"  responded  that  notable  worthy,  rushing  in,  en 
tirely  blowed  out. 

"Beat,  by  thunder  !"  roared  the  locos,  in  grand  chorus; 
and  in  the  modern  classics  of  the  Bowery,  "  they  wasn't 
any  thing  else."  The  whigs  not  only  had  the  cut  but  the 
entire  deal  in  the  appointments  that  time,  and  Alderman 
Brown  had  a  bill  at  Harlem,  a  little  more  serious  to  foot 
than  the  racing  of  the  aldermen  to  get  a  chance  to  vote. 


(letting 


IT  seems  to  be  just  as  natural  for  a  subordinate  in  a 
"grocery"  to  levy  upon  the  till,  for  material  aid  to  his 
own  pocket,  as  for  the  sparks  to  fly  upwards  or  water  run 
down  hill.  Innumerable  stories  are  told  of  the  peculations 
of  these  "  light-fingered  gentry,"  but  one  of  the  best  of 
the  boodle  is  a  story  we  are  now  about  to  dress  up  and  trot 
out,  for  your  diversion. 

A  tavern-keeper  in  this  city,  some  years  ago,  advertised 
for  a  bar-keeper,  "a  young  man  from  the  country  pre 
ferred  I"  Among  the  several  applicants  who  exhibited 
themselves  "  for  the  vacancy,"  was  a  decent,  harmless-look 
ing  youth  whose  general  contour  at  once  struck  the  tavern- 
keeper  with  most  favorable  impressions. 

"  So  you  wish  to  try  your  hand  tending  bar  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  he. 

"  Have  you  ever  tended  bar  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  but  I  do  not  doubt  my  ability  to  learn." 

"Yes,  yes,  you  can  learn  fast  enough,"  says  the  tavern- 
keeper.  "  In  fact,  I'm  glad  you  are  green  at  the  business, 
you  will  suit  me  the  better ;  the  last  fellow  I  had  come  to 
me  recommended  as  one  of  the  best  bar-keepers  in  New 
Orleans  ;  he  was  posted  up  in  all  the  fancy  drinks  and  fancy 
names,  he  wore  fancy  clothes  and  had  a  fancy  dog,  and  I 
fancied  pretty  soon  that  the  rascal  had  taken  a  fancy  to  my 
small  change,  so  I  discharged  him  in  double  quick  time." 

"  Served  him  right,  sir,"  said  the  new  applicant. 

"  Of  course  I  did.  Well  now,  sir,  I'll  engage  you  ;  you 
can  get  the  '  run'  of  things  in  a  few  weeks.  I  will  give  you 

(85) 


86  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  first  month,  and  thirty  dollars  a 
month  for  the  balance  of  the  year." 

"  I'll  accept  it,  sir,"  says  the  youth. 

"  Do  you  think  it's  enough  ?" 

"  0,  yes,  indeed,  sir!" 

"Well, "says  Boniface.  "Now  mark  me,  young  man, 
I  will  pay  you,  punctually,  but  you  mustn't  pay  yourself 
extra  wages  !" 

"  Pay  myself?"  says  the  unsophisticated  youth. 

"  Musn't  take  '  the  run'  of  the  till  1" 

"  Run  of  the  till  ?» 

"  No  knocking  down,  sir  !" 

"0,  bless  you!"  quoth  the  verdant  youth,  "I  am  as 
good-natured  as  a  lamb  ;  I  never  knocked  any  body  down 
in  all  my  life." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !"  ejaculated  the  landlord  ;  "  he  is  green,  so  I 
won't  teach  him  what  he  don't  know.  What's  your  name  ?" 

"Absalom  Hart,  sir." 

"  Good  Christian-like  name,  and  I've  no  doubt  we  shall 
agree  together,  for  a  long  time  ;  so  go  to  work." 

Absalom  "pitched  in,"  a  whole  year  passed,  Absalom 
and  the  landlord  got  along  slick  as  a  whistle.  Another 
year,  two,  three,  four  ;  never  was  there  a  more  attentive, 
diligent  and  industrious  bar-keeper  behind  a  marble  slab, 
or  armed  with  a  toddy  stick.  He  was  the  ne  plus  ultra 
Of  bar-keepers,  a  perfect  paragon  of  toddy  mixers.  But 
one  day,  some  how  or  other,  the  landlord  found  himself  in 
custody  of  the  sheriff,  bag  and  baggage.  Business  had  not 
fallen  off,  every  thing  seemed  properly  managed,  but,  some 
how  or  other,  the  landlord  broke,  failed,  caved  in,  and  the 
sheriff  sold  him  out. 

Who  bought  the  concern  ?  Absalom  Hart — nobody 
else.  Some  of  the  people  were  astonished. 

"  Well,  who  would  have  thought  it  ?" 

"Hurrah  for  Absalom  !" 


GETTING    SQUARE.  87 

"By  George,  that  was  quick  work !"  were  the  remarks 
of  the  outsiders,  when  the  fact  of  the  sale  and  purchase 
became  known.  The  landlord  felt  quite  humbled,  he  was 
out  of  house  and  home,  but  he  had  a  friend,  surely. 

"Mr.  Hart,  things  work  queer  in  this  world,  sometimes." 

"Think  so  ?"  quietly  responded  the  new  landlord. 

"I  do,  indeed;  yesterday  I  was  up,  and  to-day  I  am 
down." 

"  Very  true,  sir." 

"Yesterday  you  were  down,  to-day  you  are  up." 

"  Yery  true  ;  time  works  wonders,  Mr.  Smith." 

"It  does  indeed,  sir.  Now,  Mr.  Hart,  I  am  out  of  em 
ployment — got  my  family  to  support ;  I  always  trusted  I 
treated  you  like  a  man,  didn't  I  ?" 

"A — ye-e-s,  you  did,  I  believe." 

"  Now,  I  want  you  to  employ  me  ;  I  have  a  number  of 
friends  who  of  course  will  patronize  our  house  while  I  am 
in  it,  and  you  can  afford  me  a  fair  sort  of  a  living  to  help 
you." 

"Well,  Mr.  Smith,"  said  Mr.  Hart,  "I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  hire  somebody,  and  as  I  don't  believe  in  taking  a 
raw  hand  from  the  country,  I  will  take  one  who  understands 
all  about  it.  I'll  engage  you  ;  so  go  to  work." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hart."  And  so  the  master  became  the 
man,  and  the  man  the  master. 

"Poor  Smith,  he's  down  !"  cries  one  old  habitue  of  the 
'  General  Washington'  bar-room.  "  I  carkelated  he'd  gin 
out  afore  long,  if  he  let  other  people  'tend  to  his  business 
instead  of  himself." 

"I  didn't  like  that  fellow  Absalom,  no  how,"  says  an 
other  old  head  ;  "he's  'bout  skin'd  Smith." 

"Well,  Smith  kin  be  savin',  he's  larnt  something,"  says 
a  third,  "and  oughter  try  to  get  on  to  his  pegs  again." 

But  when  Absalom  gave  his  "free  blow,"  these  fellows 
all  "  went  in,"  partook  of  the  landlord's  hospitality,  and 


£8  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

hoped— of  course  they  did— that  he  might  live  several  thou 
sand  years,  and  make  a  fortune  ! 

Time  slid  on — Smith  was  attentive,  no  bar-keeper  more 
assiduous  and  devoted  to  the  toddy  affairs  of  the  house, 
than  Jerry  Smith,  the  pseudo-bar-keeper  of  Absalom  Hart. 
Absalom  being  landlord  of  a  popular  drinking  establish 
ment,  was  surrounded  by  politicians,  horse  jockies,  and 
various  otherwise  complexioned,  fancy  living  personages. 
Ergo,  Absalom  began  to  lay  off  and  enjoy  himself;  he  had 
his  horses,  dogs,  and  other  pastimes  ;  got  married,  and  cut  it 
very  "fat."  One  day  he  got  involved  for  a  friend, got  into 
unnecessary  expenses,  was  sued  for  complicated  debts,  and 
so  entangled  with  adverse  circumstances,  that  at  the  end  of 
his  third  year  as  landlord,  the  sheriff  came  in,  and  the 
"  General  Washington"  again  came  under  the  hammer. 

Now,  who  will  become  purchaser  ?  Every  body  won 
dered  who  would  become  the  next  customer. 

"I  will,  by  George  !"  says  Smith.  And  Smith  did  ;  he 
had  worked  long  and  faithfully,  and  he  had  saved  some 
thing.  Smith  bought  out  the  whole  concern,  and  once 
more  he  was  landlord  of  the  "  General  Washington." 

Absalom  was  cut  down,  like  a  hollyhock  in  November 

he  was  dead  broke,  and  felt,  in  his  present  situation,  flat, 
stale,  and  unprofitable  enough. 

"Mr.  Smith,"  said  Absalom,  the  d-ay  after  the  collapse, 
"I  am  once  more  on  my  oars." 

"  Yes,  Ab,  so  it  seems ;  it's  a  queer  world,  sometimes  we 
are  up,  and  sometimes  we  are  down.  Time,  Ab,  works 
wonders,  as  you  once  very  forcibly  remarked." 

"It  does,  indeed,  sir." 

"  We  have  only  to  keep  up  our  spirits,  Ab,  go  ahead  ;  the 
world  is  large,  if  it  is  full  of  changes." 

"True,  sir,  very  true.  I  was  about  to  remark,  Mr. 
Smith—" 

"Well,  Ab." 


PEOPLE    DO  DIFFER.  89 

"  That  we  have  known  one  another — " 

" Pretty  well,  I  think!" 

"  A  long  time,  sir — " 

"Yes,  Ab." 

"  And  when  I  was  up  and  you  down — " 

"  Yes,  go  on." 

"  I  gave  you  a  chance  to  keep  your  head  above  water." 

"  True  enough,  Ab,  my  boy." 

"  Now,  sir,  I  want  you  to  give  me  charge  of  the  bar 
again,  and  I'll  off  coat  and  go  to  work  like  a  Trojan." 

"Ab  Hart,"  said  Smith,  "when  you  came  to  me,  you 
was  so  green  you  could  hardly  tell  a  crossed  quarter  from 
a  bogus  pistareen — the  '  run  of  the  till'  you  learnt  in  a 
week,  while  in  less  than  a  month  you  was  the  best  hand  at 
'  knocking  down'  I  ever  met !  There's  fifty  dollars,  you 
and  I  are  square  ;  we  will  keep  so — go  !" 

Poor  Absalom  was  beat  at  his  own  game,  and  soon  left 
for  parts  unknown. 


bo  gifftr! 

FIFTY  years  ago,  Uncle  Sam  was  almost  a  stranger  on 
the  maps ;  he  hadn't  a  friend  in  the  world,  apparently, 
while  he  had  more  enemies  than  he  could  shake  a  stick  at. 
Every  body  snubbed  him,  and  every  body  wanted  to  lick  him. 
But  Sam  has  now  grown  to  be  a  crowder ;  his  spunk,  too, 
goes  up  with  his  resources,  and  he  don't  wait  for  any  body 
to  "knock  the  chip  off  his  hat,"  but  goes  right  smack  up 
to  a  crowd  of  fighting  bullies,  and  rolling  up  his  sleeves,  he 
coolly  "wants  to  know"  if  any  body  had  any  thing  to  say 
about  him,  in  that  crowd  !  Uncle  Sam  is  no  longer  "  a 
baby,"  Ins  physique  has  grown  to  be  quite  enormous,  and 
we  rather  expect  the  old  fellow  will  have  to  have  a  pitched 
battle  with  some  body  soon,  or  he'll  spile! 


gill  MJjiltim's  gtntal  (fopmnict. 

HAVE  you  ever  had  the  tooth-ache  ?  If  not,  then 
blessed  is  your  ignorance,  for  it  is  indeed  bliss  to 
know  nothing  about  the  tooth-ache,  as  you  know  nothing, 
absolutely  nothing  about  pain — the  acute,  douoie-distilled, 
rectified  agony  that  lurks  about  the  roots  or  fangs  of  a  treach 
erous  tooth.  But  ask  a  sufferer  how  it  feels,  what  it  is  like, 
how  it  operates,  and  you  may  learn  something  theoretically 
which  you  may  pray  heaven  that  you  may  not  know  practi 
cally. 

But  there's  poor  "William  Whiffletree — he's  been  through 
the  mill,  fought,  bled,  and  died  (slightly)  with  the  refined, 
essential  oil  of  the  agony  caused  by  a  raging  tooth.  Every 
time  we  read  Othello,  we  are  half  inclined  to  think  that 
more  than  half  of  lago's  devilishness  came  from  that  "rag 
ing  tooth,"  which  would  not  let  him  sleep,  but  tortured  and 
tormented  "  mine  ancient"  so  that  he  became  embittered 
against  all  the  world,  and  blackamoors  in  particular. 

William  Whiffletree's  case  is  a  very  strong  illustration 
of  what  tooth-ache  is,  and  what  it  causes  people  to  do ; 
and  affords  a  pretty  fair  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
tooth  and  sufferer  are  medicinally  and  morally  treated  by 
the  materia  medica,  and  friends  at  large. 

William  Whiffletree — or  "Bill,"  as  most  people  called 
him — was  a  sturdy  young  fellow  of  two-and-twenty,  of 
"  poor  but  respectable  parents,"  and  'tended  the  dry-goods 
store  of  one  Ethan  Rakestraw,  in  the  village  of  Rockbottora, 
State  of  New  York. 

One  unfortunate  day,  for  poor  Bill,  there  came  to  Rock- 
bottoin  a  galvanized-looking  individual,  rejoicing  in  the 
C90) 


BILL  WHIFFLETREE  S  DENTAL  EXPERIENCE.    91 

euphonium  of  Dr.  Hannibal  Orestes  Wangbanger.  As  a 
surgeon,  he  had — according  to  the  album-full  of  certificates 
— operated  in  all  the  scientific  branches  of  amputation, 
from  the  scalp-lock  to  the  heel-tap,  upon  Emperors,  Kings, 
Queens,  and  common  folks ;  but  upon  his  science  in  the 
dental  way,  he  spread  and  grew  luminous !  In  short,  Dr. 
Wangbanger  had  not  been  long  in  Rockbottom  before  his 
"  gift  of  gab,"  and  unadulterated  propensity  to  elongate 
the  blanket,  set  every  body,  including  poor  Bill  Whiffletree, 
in  a  furor  to  have  their  teeth  cut,  filed,  scraped,  rasped,  re 
set,  dug  out,  and  burnished  up  ! 

Now  Bill,  being,  as  we  aforestated,  a  muscularly-deve- 
loped  youth,  got  up  in  the  most  sturdy  New  Hampshire 
style,  his  teeth  were  teeth,  in  every  way  calculated  to  per 
form  long  and  strong ;  but  Bill  was  fast  imbibing  counter- 
jumper  notions,  dabbling  in  stiff  dickeys,  greased  soap- 
locks,  and  other  fancy  "flab-dabs,"  supposed  to  be  essential 
in  cutting  a  swarth  among  ye  fair  sex. 

So  that  when  Dr.  Wangbanger  once  had  an  audience 
with  Mr.  William  Whiffletree  in  regard  to  one  of  Mr. 
Whiffletree's  molars  which  Bill  thought  had  a  "  speck"  on 
it,  he  soon  convinced  the  victim  that  the  said  molar  not  only 
was  specked,  but  out  of  the  dead  plumb  of  its  nearest 
neighbor  at  least  the  84th  part  of  an  inch  ! 

"0,  shocking!"  says  the  remorseless  hum;  "  it  is  well 
I  saw  it  in  time,  Mr.  Whiffletree.  Why,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  weeks,  that  tooth,  sir,  would  have  exfoliated,  calcareous 
supperation  would  have  ensued,  the  gum  would  have  ossi 
fied,  while  the  nerve  of  the  tooth  becoming  apostrophized, 
the  roots  would  have  concatenated  in  their  hiatuses,  and  the 
jaw-bone,  no  longer  acting  upon  their  fossil  exoduses, 
would  necessarily  have  led  to  the  entire  suspension  of  the 
capillary  organs  of  your  stomach  and  brain,  and — death 
would  supervene  in  two  hours  /" 

Poor  Bill !   he  scarcely  knew  what  fainting  was,  but  a 


92  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

queer  sensation  settled  in  bis  "  ossis  frontis,"  while  his  ossis 
legso  almost  bent  double  under  him,  at  the  awful  prospect 
of  things  before  him  !  He  took  a  long  breath,  however, 
and  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  inquired — 

"  Good  Lord,  Doctor  !  what's  to  be  done  for  a  feller  ?" 

"  Plug  and  file,"  calmly  said  the  Doctor. 

"Plug  and  file  what?" 

"The  second  molar,"  said  the  Doctor;  though  the 
treacherous  monster  meant  Bill's  wallet,  of  course  !  > 

"  What'll  it  cost,  Doctor  ?"  says  Bill. 

"  Done  in  my  very  best  manner,  upon  the  new  and 
splendid  system  invented  by  myself,  sir,  and  practiced  upon 
all  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe,  London,  and  Washington 
City,  it  will  cost  you  three  dollars." 

"Does  it  hurt  much,  Doctor  ?"  was  Bill's  cautious  in 
quiry. 

"Very  little,  indeed;  it's  sometimes  rather  agreeable, 
sir,  than  otherwise,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Then  go  at  it,  Doctor  !  Here's  the  dosh,"  and  forking 
over  three  dollars,  down  sits  William  Whiffletree  in  a  high- 
backed  chair,  and  the  Doctor's  assistant — a  sturdy  young 
Irishman — clamping  Bill's  head  to  the  back  of  the  chair, 
to  keep  it  steady,  as  the  Doctor  remarked,  the  latter  began 
to  "bore  and  file." 

"  0  !  ah  !  ho-ho-hold  on,  hold  on  /"  cries  Bill,  at  the  first 
gouge  the  Doctor  gave  the  huge  tooth. 

"  0  !  be  me  soul !  be  aizy,  zur,"  says  the  Irishman,  v  it's 
mesilf  as  understands  it — Til  hoivld  on  till  yees!" 

"  0 — O-h-h-h  !"  roars  Bill,  as  the  Doctor  proceeds. 

"Be  quiet,  sir;  the  pain  won't  signify  !"  says  the  Doctor. 

"Go-goo-good  Lord-d-d!     Ho-ho-hol-hold  on  !" 

"  0,  yeez  needn't  be  afearecl  of  that — I'm  howldin'  yeez 
tight  as  a  divil  I"  cries  Paddy,  and  sure  enough  he  ivas 
holding,  for  in  vain  Bill  screwed  and  twisted  and  squirmed 
uround ;  Pat  held  him  like  a  cider-press. 


BILL  WHIFFLETREE'S  DENTAL  EXPERIENCE.       93 

"Let  me — me — 0 — 0 — 0!  Everlasting  creation!  let 
me  go-o-o — stop,  hold  on-n-n!"  as  the  Doctor  bored, 
screwed,  and  plugged  away  at  the  tooth. 

"  All  done,  sir ;  let  the  patient  up,  Michael,"  says  the 
Doctor,  with  a  confident  twirl  of  his  perfumed  handker 
chief.  "There,  sir — there  was  science,  art,  elegance,  and 
dispatch  !  Now,  sir,  your  tooth  is  safe — your  life  is  safe — 
you're  a  sound  man!" 

"  Sound  ?"  echoes  poor  Bill,  "  sound  ?  Why,  you've 
broken  my  jaw  into  flinders ;  you've  set  all  my  teeth  on 
edge ;  and  I've  no  more  feelin' — gall  darn  ye  ! — in  my 
jaws,  than  if  they  were  iron  steel-traps  !  You've  got  the 
wuth  of  your  money  out  of  ray  mouth,  and  I'm  off!" 

That  night  was  one  of  anxiety  and  misery  to  William 
Whiffletree.  The  disturbed  molar  growled  and  twitched 
like  mad  ;  and,  by  daylight,  poor  Bill's  cheek  was  swollen 
up  equal  to  a  printer's  buff-ball,  his  mouth  puckered,  and 
his  right  eye  half  "  bunged  up." 

"  Why,  William,"  says  Ethan  Rakestraw,  as  Bill  went 
into  the  store,  "what  in  grace  ails  thy  face  ?  Thee  looks 
like  an  owl  in  an  ivy-bush  !" 

"Been  plugged  and  filed,"  says  Bill,  looking  cross  as  a 
meat-axe  at  his  snickering  Orthodox  boss. 

"  Plugged  and  fined?  Thee  hain't  been  fighting,  Wil 
liam  ?" 

"  Eined  ?  No,  I  ain't  been  fined  or  fighting,  Mr.  Rake- 
straw,  but  I  bet  I  do  fight  that  feller  who  gave  me  the 
tooth-ache  ! — 0  !  0  !"  moaned  poor  Bill,  as  he  clamped 
his  swollen  jaw  with  his  hand,  and  went  around  waving  his 
head  like  a  plaster-of-paris  mandarin. 

"  0  !  thee's  been  to  the  dentist,  eh  ?  Got  the  tooth 
ache  ?  Go  thee  to  my  wife  ;  she'll  cure  thee  in  one  minute, 
William ;  a  little  laudanum  and  cotton  will  soon  ease  thy 
pain." 

Mrs.  Rakestraw  applied  the  laudanum  to  Bill's  molar, 


94  HUMORS   OF  FALCONBRIDGE. 

but  as  it  did  no  kind  of  good,  old  grandmother  proposed  a 
poultice  ;  and  soon  poor  Bill's  head  and  cheek  were  done  up 
in  mush,  while  he  groaned  and  grunted  and  started  for  the 
store,  every  body  gaping  at  his  swollen  countenance  as 
though  he  was  a  rare  curiosity. 

"  Halloo,  Bill !"  says  old  Firelock,  the  gunsmith,  as  Bill 
was  going  by  his  shop  ;  "  got  a  bag  in  your  calabash,  or 
got  the  tooth-ache  ?" 

Bill  looked  daggers  at  old  Firelock,  and  by  a  nod  of  his 
head  intimated  the  cause  of  his  distress. 

"  0,  that  all  ?  Come  in  ;  I'll  stop  it  in  a  minute  and  a 
half;  sit  down,  I'll  fix  it — I've  cured  hundreds,"  says  Fire 
lock. 

"What  are  you — 0-h-h,  dear!  what  are  you  going  to 
do  ?"  says  Bill,  eyeing  the  wire,  and  lamp  in  which  Firelock 
was  heating  the  wire. 

"Burn  out  the  marrow  of  the  tooth — 'twill  never  trouble 
you  again — I've  cured  hundreds  that  way  !  Don't  be  afeared 
— you  won't  feel  it  but  a  moment.  Sit  still,  keep  cool !" 
says  Firelock. 

"  Cool  ?"  with  a  hot  wire  in  his  tooth  !  But  Bill,  being 
already  intensely  crucified,  and  assured  of  Firelock's  skill, 
took  his  head  out  of  the  mush-plaster,  opened  his  jaws,  and 
Firelock,  admonishing  him  to  "  keep  cool,"  crowded  the 
hot,  sizzling  wire  on  to  the  tin  foil  jammed  into  the  hollow 
by  Wangbanger,  and  gave  it  a  twist  clear  through  the 
melted  tin  to  the  exposed  nerve.  Bill  jumped,  bit  off  the 
wire,  burnt  his  tongue,  and  knocked  Firelock  nearly 
through  the  partition  of  his  shop  ;  and  so  frightened  Mon 
sieur  Savon,  the  little  barber  next  door,  that  he  rushed  out 
into  the  street,  crying — 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  mon  Dieu  !     Ze  zundair  strike  my  shop  !" 

Bill  was  stone  dead — Firelock  crippled.  The  apothecary 
over  the  way  came  in,  picked  up  poor  Bill,  applied  some 
camphor  to  his  nose,  and  brought  him  back  to  life,  and — 
the  pangs  of  tooth-ache ! 


BILL  WIIIFFLETREE'S  DENTAL  EXPERIENCE.      95 

"  Kreasote  !"  says  Squills,  the  'pothecary.  "I'll  ease 
your  pain,  Mr.  Whiffletree,  in  a  second  !" 

Poor  Bill  gave  up — the  kreasote  added  a  fresh  invoice  to 
his  misery — burnt  his  already  lacerated  and  roasted  tongue 
. — and  he  yelled  right  out. 

"  Death  and  glory  !  0-h-h-h-h,  murder  !  You've  piz- 
ened  me  !" 

"Put  a  hot  brick  to  that  young  man's  face,"  said  a 
stranger  ;  "  'twill  take  out  the  pain  and  swelling  in  three 
minutes  !" 

Bill  revived  ;  he  seemed  pleased  at  the  stranger's  sugges 
tion  ;  the  Brick  was  applied  ;  but  Bill's  cheek  being  now 
half  raw  with  the  various  messes,  it  made  him  yell  when 
the  brick  touched  him  ! 

He  cleared  for  home,  went  to  bed,  and  the  excessive  pain, 
finally,  with  laudanum,  kreasote,  fire,  and  hot  bricks,  put 
him  to  sleep. 

He  awoke  at  midnight,  in  a  frightful  state  of  misery ; 
walked  the  floor  until  daylight ;  was  tempted  two  or  three 
times  to  jump  out  the  window  or  crawl  up  the  chimney  ! 

Until  noon  next  day  he  suffered,  trying  in  vain,  every  ten 
minutes,  some  "known  cure,"  oils,  acids,  steam,  poul 
tices,  and  the  ten  thousand  applications  usually  tried  to 
cure  a  raging  tooth. 

Desperation  made  Bill  revengeful.  He  got  a  club  and 
went  after  Dr.  Wangbanger,  who  had  set  all  the  village  in 
a  rage  of  tooth-ache.  Ten  or  a  dozen  of  his  victims  were 
at  his  door,  awaiting  ferociously  their  turns  to  be  revenged. 

But  the  bird  had  flown  ;  the  tenth-doctor  had  sloped ;  yet 
a  good  Samaritan  came  to  poor  Bill,  and  whispering  in  his 
ear,  Bill  started  for  Monsieur  Savon's  barber-shop,  took  a 
scat,  shut  his  eyes,  and  said  his  prayers.  The  little  French 
man  took  a  keen  knife  and  pair  of  pincers,  and  Bill  giving 
one  awful  yell,  the  tooth  was  out,  and  his  pains  and  perils 
at  an  end  ! 


J-s-a-irt  %g  Cjiitfc? 

DURING  the  "  great  excitement"  in  Boston,  relative 
to  the  fugitive  slave  "  fizzle,"  a  good-natured  coun 
try  gentleman,  by  the  name  of  Abner  Phipps;  an  humble 
artisan  in  the  fashioning  of  buckets,  wash-tubs  and  wood 
en-ware  generally,  from  one  of  the  remote  towns  of  the  good 
old  Bay  State,  paid  his  annual  visit  to  the  metropolis  of 
Yankee  land.  In  the  multifarious  operations  of  his  shop 
and  business,  Abner  had  but  little  time,  and  as  little  incli 
nation,  to  keep  the  run  of  latest  news,  as  set  forth  glaringly, 
every  day,  under  the  caption  of  Telegraphic  Dis2xilches,  in 
the  papers ;  hence,  it  requires  but  a  slight  extension  of 
the  imagination  to  apprise  you,  "  dear  reader,"  that  our 
friend  Phipps  was  but  meagerly  "posted  up"  in  what  was 
going  on  in  this  great  country,  half  of  his  time.  I  must 
do  friend  Phipps  the  favor  to  say,  that  he  was  not  ignorant 
of  the  fact  that  "  Old  Hickory"  font  well  clown  to  New- 
Orleans,  and  that  "  Old  Zack"  flaxed  the  Mexicans  clean 
out  of  their  boots  in  Mexico  ;  likewise  that  Millerism  was  a 
humbug,  and  money  was  pretty  generally  considered  a  cash 
article  all  over  the  universal  world. 

But  what  did  Phipps  know  or  care  about  the  Fugitive 
Slave  bill  ?  Not  a  red  cent's  worth,  no  more  than  he  did 
of  the  equitation  of  the  earth,  the  Wilmot  proviso,  or 
Barnum's  woolly  horse — not  a  red.  lie  came  to  Boston  an 
nually  to  see  how  things  were  a  workin';  pleasure,  not  bu 
siness.  The  very  first  morning  of  his  arrival  in  town,  the 
hue  and  cry  of  "  slave  hunters,"  was  raised — Shadrack,  the 
fugitive,  was  arrested  at  his  vocation — table  servant  at 
Taft's  eating  establishment,  Corn  Hill,  where  Abner  Phipps 
(96) 


A-A-A-IN'T  THEY  THICK?  97 

accidentally  bad  stuck  his  boots  under  the  mahogany,  for 
the  purpose  of  recuperating  his  somewhat  exhausted  inner- 
man.  Abner  saw  the  arrest,  he  was  quietly  discussing  his 
tapioca,  and  if  thinking  at  all,  was  merely  calculating  what 
the  profits  were,  upon  a  two-and-sixpence  dinner,  at  a  Bos 
ton  restaurateur.  He  saw  there  was  a  muss  between  the 
black  waiter  and  two  red-nosed  white  men,  but  as  he  did 
not  know  what  it  was  all  about,  he  didn't  care  ;  it  was  none 
of  his  business  ;  and  being  a  part  of  his  religion,  not  to 
meddle  with  that  that  did  not  concern  him,  he  continued 
his  tapioca  to  the  bottom  of  his  plate,  then  forked  over  the 
equivalent  and  stepped  out. 

As  Phipps  turned  into  Court  square,  it  occurred,  slightly, 
that  the  niggers  had  got  to  be  rather  thick  in  Boston,  to 
what  they  used  to  be ;  and  bending  his  footsteps  down 
Brattle  street,  once  or  twice  it  occurred  to  him  that  the 
niggers  had  got  to  be  thick — darn'd  thick,  for  they  passed 
and  repassed  him — walked  before  him  and  behind  him,  and 
in  fact  all  around  him. 

"Yes,"  says  Phipps,  /'the  niggers  are  thick,  thundering 
thick. — never  saw  'em  so  thick  in  my  life.  Ain't  they  thick?" 
he  soliloquized,  and  as  he  continued  his  stroll  in  the  pur 
lieus  of  "  slightly  soiled"  garments,  vulgarly  known  as 
second-hand  shops,  mostly  proprietorized  by  very  dignified 
and  respectable  coVud  pussons,  it  again  struck  Phipps 
quite  forcibly  that  the  niggers  were  a  getting  thick. 

"  Godfree  !  but  ain't  they  thick !  I  hope  to  be  stabbed 
with  a  gridiron,"  said  Phipps,  "if  there  ain't  more  nig 
gers — look  at  'em — more  niggers  than  would  patch  and 
grade  the  infernal  regions  eleven  miles  !  Guess  I've  enough 
niggers  for  a  spell,"  continued  Phipps,  "so  I'll  just  pop 
in  here,  and  see  how  this  feller  sells  his  notions."  And  so 
Abner,  having  reached  Dock  square,  saunters  into  a  gun, 
pistol,  bowie,  jack-knife,  dog-collar,  shot-bag,  and  notion- 
shop  in  general.  Unlucky  step. 
G 


98  HUMORS   OF  FALCONBRIDGE. 

The  stiff-dickied,  frizzle-headed,  polished  and  perfumed 
shop-keeper  was  on  hand,  and  particularly  predisposed  to  sell 
the  stranger  something.  Just  then  a  nigger  passed  the  door, 
and  looked  in  very  sharply  at  Phipps,  and  presently  two 
more  passed,  then  a  fourth  and  fifth,  all  looking  more  or 
less  pointedly  at  the  manufacturer  of  wooden  doin's,  and 
white-pine  fixin's. 

"  That's  a  neat  collar,"  says  the  shop-keeper,  as  Phipps, 
sort  of  miscellaneously,  placed  his  hand  upon  a  brass-band, 
red-lined  dog-collar. 

11  Collar  !  don't  call  that  a  collar,  do  you  ?" 

"I  do,  sir,  a  beautiful  collar,  sir." 

"What  for,  solgersV'  asks  Phipps. 

"  Soldiers,  no,  dogs,"  says  the  shop-keeper,  puckering 
his  mouth  as  though  he  had  sampled  a  lemon. 

"0  /"  says  Phipps,  suddenly  realizing  the  fact.  "I  ain't 
got  no  dogs ;  bad  stock ;  don't  pay  ;  tax  'em  up  where  I 
live;  wouldn't  pay  tax  for  forty  dogs."  More  niggers 
passed,  repassed,  and  looked  in  at  Phipps  and  the  store 
keeper. 

"  I  say,  ain't  the  niggers  got  to  be  thick — infernal  thick, 
in  your  town  lately  ?" 

"Well,  I  dont  know  that  they  are,"  replied  the  shop 
keeper;  "getting  rather  scarce,  I  think,  since  the  Fugitive 
bill  has  been  put  in  force  over  the  country,  sir,  but  it  does 
appear  tome,"  said  the  shop-keeper,  twiging  sundry  and  sus 
picious-looking  col'ud  gem'en  passing  by  his  store,  gaping  in 
rather  wistfully  at  the  door,  and  peeping  through  the  sash 
of  the  windows — "  it  does  appear  to  me,  that  a  good  many 
colored  persons  are  about  this  morning ;  yes,  there  is,  why 
there  goes  more,  more  yet ;  bless  me,  there's  another,  two, 
three,  four,  why  a  dozen  has  just  passed ;  they  seem  to  look 
in  here  rather  curiously,  I  wonder — only  look ;  what  has 
stirred  them  up,  I  want  to  know  I"  the  fluctuation  of  the 
Congo  market  completely  attracted  the  handsome  man's 


"What  flat!  got  pistils  in  your  pocket, leh?1?  <iays  oWe  of  ^0  bio  bu';>k  Niggers,  shying 
up  alongside  of  the  new  velo^pedi-as '  u»  coi^nyry  V*s*ii'.  ;"KbaVdk!  got  de  hand 
cuffs  m  he  pocket  I"— Page  99.  ' 


A-A-A-IN'T  THEY  THICK?  99 

attention  ;  his  surprise  finally  assumed  the  most  tangible 
shape  and  complexion  of  fear,  for  the  niggers,  one  and  all, 
looked  savage  as  meat-axes,  and  began  to  get  too  numerous 
to  mention. 

"Well,  guess  I'll  begoin',"  says  Phipps,  after  fumbling 
over  some  of  the  shooting-irons,  jack-knives,  etc. ;  reaching 
the  street,  he  was  more  fully  impressed  with  the  fixed  fact, 
that  the  niggers  were  all  sorts  of  thick.  They  fairly 
crowded  him  ;  one  buck  darkey  rubbed  slap  up  against 
Phipps,  as  he  moved  out  of  the  store.  "  Look  here,  Mister," 
says  Phipps,  "  ain't  all  this  street  big  enough  for  you  with 
out  a  crowdin'  me  ?" 

The  nigger  stopped,  looked  arsenic  and  chain  lightning 
at  Phipps,  and  then  moved  off,  saying  in  a  sort  of  under 
tone — 

"  Gorra,  I  guess  you'll  be  crowded  a  wus'n  dat  afore  dis 
day  is  ober." 

"  Will,  eh  ?"  responded  Abner  Phipps,  slightly  mystified 
as  to  the  why  and  wherefore,  that  lie  should,  in  particular, 
be  "crowded,"  especially  by  an  Ethiopic  gentleman. 

"I  guess  I  won't  then,"  resumed  Phipps  ;  "  if  any  body 
ventures  to  crowd  me,  just  a  purpose,  I  guess  I'll  be  darn'd 
apt,  and  mighty  quick  to  squash  in  their  heads,  or  whoop'm 
on  the  spot." 

"  What  dat  ?  got  pistils  in  your  pocket,  eh  ?"  says  one 
of  the  two  big  buck  niggers,  shying  up  alongside  of  the 
now  veloscipeding  up-country  artisan.  Phipps  looked  back, 
the  negroes  were  following  him.  "Pistils  ?  who'se  talkin' 
about  pistils,  mister?"  he  ventured  to  ask. 

"  Dat's  him,  watch'm." 

"  Why,  we  see'd  you  goin'  in  dar,  dat  pistol  shop  ;  want 
to  lay  in  a  stock  of  dirks  and  pistils,  eh  ?"  says  the  negro. 

"You — you  got  any  hand-cuffs  in  you'  pocket  ?"  inquired 
another. 

"  What  dat  ?  got  de  hand-cuffs  in  he  pocket?" 


100  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Pistils  and  bowie  knibes  !"  says  a  third. 

"Dat's  him!  watch'm  !" 

"  Knock'ni  down,  put  dat  white  hat  ober  his  eyes ! 
Hoo-r-r  !» 

The  negroes  now  fairly  beset  our  victimized  friend 
Phipps ;  he  stopped,  buttoned  his  coat,  the  negroes  aug 
mented  ;  glared  at  him  like  demons  ;  he  fixed  his  hat  firmly 
upon  his  head  ;  the  negroes  began  to  grin  and  move  upon 
him  ;  he  spat  upon  his  hands  ;  the  negroes  began  to  yell, 
and  to  close  in  upon  him  ;  with  one  grand  effort,  one  mighty 
gathering  of  all  the  human  faculties  called  into  action  by 
fear  and  desperation,  Phipps  bounded  like  a  Louisiana  bull 
at  a  gate  post;  he  knocked  down  two,  square;  kicked  over 
four,  and  rushing  through  the  now  very  considerable  and 
formidable  array  of  ebony,  he  broke  equal  to  a  wild  turkey 
through  a  corn  bottom,  or  a  sharp  knife  through  a  pound 
of  milky  butter  ;  and  it  is  very  questionable  whether  Phipps 
ever  stopped  running  until  his  boots  busied,  or  he  reached 
his  bucket  factory  on  Taunton  river.  His  negro  deputation 
waited  on  him  with  a  rush  clear  outside  of  town,  where  the 
speed  and  bottom  of  Abner  distanced  the  entire  committee. 
The  key  to  this  joke  is  :  Phipps  was  dogged  from  Tafts' — 
by  the  "vigilant  committee,"  as  an  informer,  or  slave-hunter 
at  least,  and  hence  the  delicate  attentions  of  the  col'ud 
pop'lation  paid  him.  I  have  no  doubt,  that  if  Abner  Phipps 
be  asked,  how  things  look  around  Boston,  he  would  observe 
with  some  energy, 

"  Niggers — niggers  are  thick — Godfree  !  a-a-a-irtt  they 
thick!" 


SOME  years  ago,  I  was  one  of  a  convivial  party,  that 
met  in  the  principal  hotel  in  the  town  of  Columbus, 
Ohio,  the  seat  of  government  of  the  Buckeye  State. 

It  was  a  winter  evening^  when  all  without. was  bleak  and 
stormy,  and  all  within  ;\r^V<i  atytho  and  gay  ;  when  song  and 
story  made  the  circuit  of  thetf^ti^3  Ivoitrd,'  $)}ing  up  the 
chasms  of  life  with  mirth1  and  faaglucr. 

We  had  met  for  the  express  purpose  of  making  a  night 
of  it,  and  the  pious  intention  was  duly  and  most  re 
ligiously  carried  out.  The  Legislature  was  in  session  in 
that  town,  and  not  a  few  of  the  worthy  legislators  were 
present  upon  this  occasion. 

One  of  these  worthies  I  will  name,  as  he  not  only  took  a 
big  swath  in  the  evening's  entertainment,  but  he  was  a  man 
more  generally  known  than  our  worthy  President,  James 
K.  Polk.  That  man  was  the  famous  Captain  Ililey  !  whose 
"narrative"  of  suffering  and  adventures  is  pretty  generally 
known,  all  over  the  civilized  world.  Captain  Ililey  was  a 
fine,  fat,  good-humored  joker,  who  at  the  period  of  my 
story  was  the  representative  of  the  Dayton  district,  and 
lived  near  that  little  city  when  at  home.  Well,  Captain 
Ililey  had  amused  the  company  with  many  of  his  far-famed 
and  singular  adventures,  which  being  mostly  told  before 
and  read  by  millions  of  people,  that  have  ever  seen  his 
book,  I  will  not  attempt  to  repeat  them. 

Many  were  the  stories  and  adventures  told  by  the  com 
pany,  when  it  came  to  the  turn  of  a  well  known  gentleman 

who  represented  the  Cincinnati  district.  As  Mr. is  yet 

among  the  living,  and  perhaps  not  disposed  to  be  the  subject 

(101) 


102  HUMORS    OF    FALCOXBRIDGE. 

of  joke  or  story,  I  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  give  his  name. 

Mr. was  a  slow  believer  of  other  men's  adventures,  and 

at  the  same  time  much  disposed  to  magnify  himself 
into  a  marvellous  hero  whenever  the  opportunity  offered. 
As  Captain  Riley  wound  up  one  of  his  truthful,  though 

really  marvellous  adventures,  Mr.  coolly  remarked, 

that  the  captain's  story  was  all  very  well,  but  it  did  not 
begin  to  compare  with  an  adventure  that  he  had  "once 
upon  a  time"  on  the  Ohio,  below  the  present  city  of 
Cincinnati. 

"  Let's  have  it !"  "  Let's  have  it !"  resounded  from  all 
hands. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Senator,  clearing  his  voice 
for  action  and  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  against 
the  arm  of  his  chair.  "Gentlemen,  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of 
spinning  yarns  of  marvellous  or  fictitious  matters ;  and  there 
fore  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  affirm  upon  the  responsibility 
of  my  reputation,  gentlemen,  that  what  I  am  about  to 
tell  you,  I  most  solemnly  proclaim  to  be  truth,  and — " 

"  Oh !  never  mind  that,  go  on,  Mr.  ,"  chimed  the 

party. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  in  18 —  I  came  down  the  Ohio  river, 
and  settled  at  Losanti,  now  called  Cincinnati.  It  was,  at 
that  time,  but  a  little  settlement  of  some  twenty  or  thirty 
log  and  frame  cabins,  and  where  now  stands  the  Broadway 
Hotel  and  blocks  of  stores  and  dwelling  houses,  was  the 

cottage  and  corn  patch  of  old  Mr. ,  a  tailor,  who,  by 

the  by,  bought  that  land  for  the  making  of  a  coat  for  one 
of  the  settlers.  Well,  I  put  up  my  cabin,  with  the  aid  of 
my  neighbors,  and  put  in  a  patch  of  corn  and  potatoes, 
about  where  the  Fly  Market  now  stands,  and  set  about 
improving  my  lot,  house,  &c. 

"  Occasionally,  I  took  up  my  rifle,  and  started  off  with  my 
dog  down  the  river,  to  look  up  a  little  deer,  or  bar  meat, 
then  very  plenty  along  the  river.  The  blasted  red  skins 


A    DESPERATE   KACE.  103 

were  lurking  about,  and  hovering  around  the  settlement, 
and  every  once  in  a  while  picked  off  some  of  our  neigh 
bors,  or  stole  our  cattle  or  horses.  I  hated  the  red 
demons,  and  made  no  bones  of  peppering  the  blasted 
sarpents  whenever  I  got  a  sight  at  them.  In  fact,  the  red 
rascals  had  a  dread  of  me,  and  had  laid  a  great  many  traps 
to  get  my  scalp,  but  I  wasn't  to  be  catch'd  napping.  No, 
no,  gentlemen,  I  was  too  well  up  to  'em  for  that. 

"Well,  I  started  off  one  morning,  pretty  early,  to  take 
a  hunt,  and  travelled  a  long  way  down  the  river,  over  the 
bottoms  and  hills,  but  couldn't  find  no  bar  nor  deer.  About 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  I  made  tracks  for  the  settle 
ment  again.  By  and  by,  I  sees  a  buck  just  ahead  of  me, 
walking  leisurely  down  the  river.  I  slipped  up,  with  my 
faithful  old  dog  close  in  my  rear,  to  within  clever  shooting 
distance,  and  just  as  the  buck  stuck  his  nose  in  the  drink, 
I  drew  a  lead  upon  his  top-knot  and  over  he  tumbled,  and 
splurged  and  bounded  awhile,  when  I  came  up  and  relieved 
him  by  cutting  his  wizen — " 

"  Well,  but  what  had  that  to  do  with  an  adventure?"  said 
Riley. 

"  Hold  on  a  bit,  if  you  please,  gentlemen — by  Jove  it 
had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  For  while  I  was  busy  skin 
ning  the  hind  quarters  of  the  buck,  and  stowing  away  the 
kidney-fat  in  my  hunting  shirt,  I  heard  a  noise  like  the  break- 
ing  of  brush  under  a  moccasin  up  'the  bottom.'  My  dog 
heard  it  and  started  up  to  reconnoitre,  and  I  lost  no  time 
in  reloading  my  rifle.  I  had  hardly  got  my  priming  out 
before  my  dog  raised  a  howl  and  broke  through  the  brush 
towards  me  with  his  tail  down,  as  he  was  not  used  to  doing 
unless  there  were  wolves,  painters  (panthers)  or  Injins  about. 

"  I  picked  up  my  knife,  and  took  up  my  line  of  march  in 
a  skulking  trot  up  the  river.  The  frequent  gullies,  on  the 
lower  bank,  made  it  tedious  travelling  there,  so  I  scrabbled 
up  to  the  upper  bank,  which  was  pretty  well  covered  with 


104  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

buckeye  and  sycamore^and  very  little  under-brush.  One 
peep  below  discovered  to  me  three  as  big  and  strapping  red 
rascals,  gentlemen,  as  you  ever  clapt  your  eyes  on  !  Yes, 
there  they  came,  not  above  six  hundred  yards  in  my  rear. 
Shouting  and  yelling  like  hounds,  and  coming  after  me  like 
all  possessed." 

"  Well,"  said  an  old  woodsman  sitting  at  the  table, 
"  you  took  a  tree  of  course  ?" 

"Did  I?  Ko,  gentlemen!  I  took  no  tree  just  then, 
but  I  took  to  my  heels  like  sixty,  and  it  was  just  as  much 
as  my  old  dog  could  do  to  keep  up  with  me.  I  run  until 
the  whoops  of  my  red  skins  grew  fainter  and  fainter  behind 
me  ;  and  clean  out  of  wind,  I  ventured  to  look  behind  me, 
and  there  came  one  single  red  whelp,  puffing  and  blowing, 
not  three  hundred  yards  in  my  rear.  He  had  got  on  to  a 
piece  of  bottom  where  the  trees  were  small  and  scarce — 
now,  thinks  I,  old  fellow,  I'll  have  you.  So  I  trotted  off 
at  a  pace  sufficient  to  let  my  follower  gain  on  me,  and 
when  he  had  got  just  about  near  enough,  I  wheeled  and 
fired,  and  down  I  brought  him,  dead  as  a  door  nail,  at  a 
hundred  and  twenty  yards  !" 

"  Then  you  skelp'd  (scalped)  him  immediately  ?"  said  the 
backwoodsman. 

"  Very  clear  of  it,  gentlemen,  for  by  the  time  I  got  my 
rifle  loaded,  here  came  the  other  two  red  skins,  shouting 
and  whooping  close  on  me,  and  away  I  broke  again  like  a 
quarter  horse.  I  was  now  about  five  miles  from  the  settle 
ment,  and  it  was  getting  towards  sunset ;  I  ran  till  my  wind 
began  to  be  pretty  short,  when  I  took  a  look  back  and 
there  they  came  snorting  like  mad  buffaloes,  one  about 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  ahead  of  the  other,  so  I 
acted  possum  again  until  the  foremost  Injin  got  pretty 
well  up,  and  I  wheeled  and  fired  at  the  very  moment  he  was 
'  drawing  a  bead'  on  me;  he  fell  head  over  stomach  into 
the  dirt,  and  up  came  the  last  one  !" 


A   DESPERATE   RACE.  105 

"  So  you  laid  for  him  and — "  gasped  several. 

"No,"  continued  the  "member,"  "I  didn't  lay  for  him, 
I  hadn't  time  to  load,  so  I  layed  legs  to  ground,  and 
started  again.  I  heard  every  bound  he  made  after  me.  I 
ran  and  ran,  until  the  fire  flew  out  of  my  eyes,  and  the  old 
dog's  tongue  hung  out  of  his  mouth  a  quarter  of  a  yard 
long!" 

11  Phe-e-e-e-w  !"  whistled  somebody. 

"  Fact  !  gentlemen.  Well,  what  I  was  to  do  I  didn't 
know — rifle  empty,  no  big  trees  about,  and  a  murdering  red 
Indian  not  three  hundred  yards  in  my  rear ;  and,  what  was 
worse,  just  then  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  not  a  great 
ways  from  a  big  creek,  (now  called  Mill  Creek,)  and  there 
I  should  be  pinned  at  last. 

"  Just  at  this  juncture  I  struck  my  toe  against  a  root, 
and  down  I  tumbled,  and  my  old  dog  over  me.  Before  I 
could  scrabble  up — " 

"The  Indian  fired  !"  gasped  the  old  woodsman. 

"  He  did,  gentlemen,  and  I  felt  the  ball  strike  me  under 
the  shoulder  ;  but  that  didn't  seem  to  put  any  embargo  upon 
my  locomotion,  for  as  soon  as  I  got  up  I  took  off  again, 
quite  freshened  by  my  fall  !  I  heard  the  red  skin  close  be 
hind  me  coming  booming  on,  and  every  minute  I  expected 
to  have  his  tomahawk  dashed  into  my  head  or  shoulders. 

"  Something  kind  of  cool  began  to  trickle  down  my  legs 
into  my  boots — " 

"Blood,  eh  ?  for  the  shot  the  varmint  gin  you,"  said  the 
old  woodsman,  in  a  great  state  of  excitement. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  the  Senator,  "but  what  do  you 
think  it  was  ?" 

Not  being  blood,  we  were  all  puzzled  to  know  what  the 
blazes.it  could  be.  When  Riley  observed — 

"I  suppose  you  had — " 

"  Melted  the  deer  fat  which  I  had  stuck  in  the  breast  of 
my  hunting  shirt,  and  tho  frronse  wns  rnnninoT  down  mv 


106  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBHIDGE. 

until  my  feet  got  so  greasy  that  my  heavy  boots  flew  off, 
and  one  hitting  the  dog,  nearly  knocked  his  brains  out." 

We  all  grinned,  which  the  "  member"  noticing,  observed — 

"  I  hope,  gentlemen,  no  man  here  will  presume  to  think 
I'm  exaggerating  ?" 

"  O,  certainly  not !    Go  on,  Mr.  ,"  we  all  chimed  in. 

"  Well,  the  ground  under  my  feet  was  soft,  and  being 
relieved  of  my  heavy  boots,  I  put  off  with  double  quick 
time,  and  seeing  the  creek  about  half  a  mile  off,  I  ventured 
to  look  over  my  shoulder  to  see  what  kind  of  a  chance 
there  was  to  hold  up  and  load.  The  red  skin  was  coming 
jogging  along  pretty  well  blowed  out,  about  live  hundred 
yards  in  the  rear.  Thinks  I,  here  goes  to  load  any  how. 
So  at  it  I  went — in  went  the  powder,  and  putting  on  my 
patch,  down  went  the  ball  about  half-way,  and  off  snapped 
my  ramrod !" 

"  Thunder  and  lightning  !"  shouted  the  old  woodsman, 
who  was  worked  up  to  the  top-notch  in  the  "member's" 
story. 

"  Good  gracious  !  wasn't  I  in  a  pickle  !  There  was  the 
red  whelp  within  two  hundred  yards  of  me,  pacing  along 
and  loading  up  his  rifle  as  lie  came!  I  jerked  out  the 
broken  ramrod,  dashed  it  away  and  started  on,  priming  up 
as  I  cantered  off,  determined  to  turn  and  give  the  red  skin 
a  blast  any  how,  as  soon  as  I  reached  the  creek. 

"  I  was  now  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  creek,  could 
see  the  smoke  from  the  settlement  chimneys ;  a  few  more 
jumps  and  I  was  by  the  creek.  The  Indian  was  close  upon 
me — he  gave  a  whoop,  and  I  raised  my  rifle  ;  on  he  came, 
knowing  that  I  had  broken  my  ramrod  and  my  load  not 
down ;  another  whoop  !  whoop  !  and  he  was  within  fifty 
yards  of  me  !  I  pulled  trigger,  and — " 

"  And  killed  him  ?"  chuckled  Riley. 

"  No,  sir!    I  missed  fire  !" 


DODGING   THE   KESPONSIBILITY.  107 

"And  the  red  skin — "  shouted  the  old  woodsman  in  a 
phrenzy  of  excitement — 

"  Fired  and  killed  me!" 

The  screams  and  shouts  that  followed  this  finale  brought 
landlord  Noble,  servants  and  hostlers,  running  up  stairs  to 
see  if  the  house  was  on  fire  ! 


tlje 


"  SIR  !"  said  Fieryfaces,  the  lawyer,  to  an  unwilling  ^it- 
ness,  "  Sir  !  do  you  say,  upon  your  oath,  that  Blinkjns  is 
a  dishonest  man  f" 

"  I  didn't  say  he  was  ever  accused  of  being  an  honest 
man,  did  I  ?"  replied  Pipkins. 

"  Does  the  court  understand  you  to  say,  Mr.  Pipkins, 
that  the  plaintiff's  reputation  is  bad  ?"  inquired  the  judge, 
merely  putting  the  question  to  keep  his  eyes  open. 

"  I  didn't  say  it  was  good,  I  reckon." 

"  Sir  !"  said  Fieryfaces,  "  Sir-r  !  upon  your  oath  —  mind, 
upon  your  oath,  upon  your  oath,  you  say  that  Blinkins  is 
a  rogue,  a  villain  and  a  thief  !" 

"  You  say  so,"  was  Pip's  reply. 

"  Haven't  you  said  so  ?" 

"Why,  you've  said  it,"  said  Pipkins,  "  what's  the  use 
of  my  repeating  it?" 

"  Sir-r  !"  thundered  Fieryfaces,  the  Demosthenean  thun- 
derer  of  Thumbtown,  "Sir-r!  I  charge  you,  upon  your 
sworn  oath,  do  you  or  do  you  not  say  —  Blinkins  stole 
things  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  cautious  reply  of  Pipkins.  "  I  never 
said  Blinkins  stole  things,  but  I  do  say  —  Tie's  got  a  way  of 
finding  things  that  nobody  lost!" 

"Sir-r,"  said  Fieryfaces,  "you  can  retire,"  and  the  court 
adjourned. 


Pitnta  k  |lrairit  fart. 


I 


'LL  take  a  circuit  around,  and  come  out  about  the  lower 
end  of  your  mo£,''*  said  I  to  my  companion.  "  You  re 
main  here  ;  lie  down  flat,  and  I'll  warrant  the  old  doe  and 
her  fawns  will  be  found  retracing  their  steps." 

We  had  started  from  camp  about  sunrise,  to  hunt,  three 
of  us  ;  one,  an  old  hunter,  who,  after  marking  out  our 
course,  giving  us  the  lay  of  the  land,  and  various  admoni 
tions  as  to  the  danger  of  getting  too  far  from  camp,  looking 
out  for  "  Injin  signs,"  &c.,  "Old  Traps,"  as  we  called  him, 
took  a  tour  southward,  and  left  us.  Myself  and  companion 
were  each  armed  with  rifles  ;  his  a  blunt  "  Yeager,"  by  the 
way,  and  mine  an  Ohio  piece,  carrying  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  balls  to  the  pound,  consequently  very  light,  and 
not  a  very  sure  thing  for  a  distance  over  one  hundred  yards. 
It  was  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  delightful  weather  :  our  ward 
robe  consisted  of  Kentucky  jean  trousers,  boots,  straw  hats, 
two  shirts,  and  jean  hunting  shirts  —  all  thin,  to  be  sure,  but 
warm  and  comfortable  enough  for  a  day's  hunt.  We 
trudged  about  until  noon,  firing  but  once,  and  then  at  an 
alligator  in  a  bayou,  whose  coat  of  mail  laughed  to  scorn 
our  puny  bullets,  and,  barely  flirting  his  horny  tail  in  con 
tempt,  he  slid  from  his  perch  back  into  the  greasy  and  tur 
bid  stream.  Seating  ourselves  upon  a  dead  cotton-wood, 
we  made  a  slight  repast  upon  some  cold  pone,  which,  mois 
tened  with  a  drop  of  "  Mon'galy,"  proved,  I  must  needs 
confess,  upon  such  occasions,  viands  as  palatable  as  a  Tre- 

*  Mot  is  the  name  given  small  clumps  of  trees  or  woods,  found  scat 
tered  over  the  prairie  land  of  Texas. 


A   NIGHT   ADVENTURE    IN    PRAIRIE    LAND.         109 

mont  dinner  to  a  city  gourmand.  While  thus  quietly  dis 
posed,  all  of  a  sudden  we  heard  a  racket  in  our  rear,  which, 
though  it  startled  us  at  first,  soon  apprised  us  that  game 
was  at  hand.  Dropping  low,  we  soon  saw,  a  few  yards 
above  us,  the  large  antlers  of  a  buck.  He  darted  down 
the  slight  bluffs,  followed  by  a  doe  and  two  well-grown 
fawns. 

As  they  gained  the  water,  and  but  barely  stuck  their 
noses  into  the  drink,  we  both  let  drive  at  them  :  but,  in 
my  rising  upon  my  knee  to  fire  at  the  buck,  he  got  wind  of 
the  courtesies  I  was  about  to  tender  him,  and  absolutely 
dodged  my  ball.  I  was  too  close  to  miss  him  ;  but,  as  he 
"juked" — to  use  an  old-fashioned  western  word — down  his 
head  the  moment  he  saw  fire,  the  bullet  merely  made  the 
fur  fly  down  his  neck,  and,  with  a  back  bound  or  double 
somerset,  he  scooted  quicker  than  uncorked  thunder. 

Our  eyes  met — we  both  grinned. 

"  Well,  by  King,"  says  my  friend  Mat,  "  that's  shooting  !" 

"Both  missed  ?"  says  I. 

"  Better  break  for  camp,  straight :  if  we  should  meet  a 
greaser  or  Camanche  here,  they'd  take  our  scalps,  and  beat 
us  about  the  jaws  with  'em  !" 

It  was  thought  to  bear  the  complexion  of  a  joke,  and  we 
both  laughed  quite  jocosely  at  it. 

"Now,"  says  I,  "old  Sweetener,"  loading  up  my  rifle, 
"  you  and  I  can't  give  it  up  so,  no  how."  Tripping  up  a 
cup  of  the  alligator  fluid,  we  washed  down  our  crumbs,  and 
started.  We  followed  the  deer  about  two  miles  up  the 
bayou;  the  land  was  low  prairie  bottom,  ugly  for  walking, 
and  our  track  was  slow  and  tedious.  But,  approaching  a 
suspicious  place  carefully  and  cautiously,  we  had  another 
fair  view  of  the  doe  and  fawns,  feeding  and  watching  on  the 
side  of  a  broad  prairie.  The  distance  between  us  was 
quite  extensive  ;  we  could  not  well  approach  within  shoot 
ing  distance  without  alarming  them.  The  only  alternative 


110  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

was  for  my  friend  Mat  to  deposit  himself  among  the  brush 
and  stuff,  and  let  me  circumvent  the  critters  ;  one  of  us 
would  surely  get  a  whack  at  them.  I  started  ;  a  slow,  tedi 
ous  scratch  and  crawl  of  nearly  a  mile  got  me  to  the  wind 
ward  of  the  deer.  As  I  edged  down  along  the  high  grass 
and  chapperel,  about  a  branch  of  the  bayou,  the  old  doe 
began  to  raise  her  head  occasionally,  and  scent  the  air : 
this,  as  I  got  still  nearer,  she  repeated  more  frequently, 
until,  at  length,  she  took  the  hint,  and  made  a  break  down 
towards  my  friend  Mat,  who,  sharp  upon  the  trigger,  just 
as  the  three  deer  got  within  fifty  yards,  raised  and  fired. 
'Bout  went  the  deer,  making  a  dash  for  my  quarters  ;  but 
before  getting  any  ways  near  me,  down  toppled  one  of  the 
young  'uns.  Mat  had  fixed  its  flint ;  but  my  blood  was  up 
. — I  was  not  to  be  fooled  out  of  my  shot  in  that  way ;  and 
perceiving  my  only  chance,  at  best,  was  to  be  a  long  shot, 
off  hand,  as  the  doe  and  her  remaining  fawn  dashed  by,  at 
over  eighty  yards,  I  let  her  have  the  best  I  had  ;  the  bullet 
struck^ — the  old  doe  jumped,  by  way  of  an  extra,  about  five 
by  thirty  feet,  and  didn't  even  stop  to  ask  permission  at  that. 
A  sportsman  undergoes  no  little  excitement  in  peppering  a 
few  paltry  pigeons,  a  duck  or  a  squirrel,  but  when  an  ama 
teur  hunter  gets  his  Ebenezer  set  on  a  real  deer,  bpar,  or 
flock  of  wild  turkies,  you  may  safely  premise  it  would  take 
some  capital  to  buy  him  off. 

I  forgot  all  about  time  and  space,  Mat,  "  Old  Traps," 
greasers  and  Injins — my  whole  capital  was  invested  in  the 
old  doe,  and  I  was  after  her.  She  was  badly  wounded  ;  I 
thought  she'd  "  gin  eout"  pretty  soon,  and  I  followed  clear 
across  the  prairie.  Time  flew,  and  finally,  feeling  consider 
ably  fagged,  and  getting  no  further  view  of  my  deer,  and 
being  no  longer  able  to  trace  the  red  drops  she  sprinkled 
along,  I  sat  down,  wiped  the  salt  water  from  my  parboiled 

countenance,  and  began  to think   I'd  gone  far  enough 

for  old  venison.     In  fact,  I'd  gone  a  little  too   far,  for  the 


A   NIGHT   ADVENTURE    IN    PRAIRIE   LAND.          Ill 

sun  was  setting  down  to  his  home  in  the  Pacific,  the  black 
shades  of  night  began  to  gather  around  the  timber,  and  I 
hurried  out  into  the  prairie,  to  get  an  observation.  But  it 
was  no  go.  I  had  entirely  reversed  the  order  of  things,  in 
my  mind ;  I  had  lost  my  bearings.  The  evening  was 
cloudy,  with  a  first  rate  prospect  of  a  wet  night,  and  neither 
moon  nor  stars  were  to  be  seen. 

Taking,  at  a  hazard,  the  supposed  back  track,  across  the 
broad  prairie,  upon  which  flourished  a  stiff,  tall  grass,  I 
plodded  along,  quite  chilly,  and  my  thin  garments,  wet 
from  perspiration,  were  cold  as  cakes  of  ice  to  my  flesh. 
I  began  to  feel  mad,  swore  some,  hoped  I  was  on  the  right 
track  back  to  Mat  and  his  deer,  but  felt  satisfied  there  was 
some  doubt  about  that.  Mat  had  the  flint  and  steel  for 
raising  a  fire,  and  the  meat  and  what  bread  was  left  at  our 
last  repast.  Night  came  right  down  in  the  midst  of  my 
cares  and  tribulations.  A  slight  drizzling  rain  began  to 
fall.  The  stillness  of  a  prairie  is  a  damper  to  the  best  of 
spirits — the  entire  suspension  of  all  noises  and  sounds,  not 
even  the  tick  of  an  insect  to  break  the  black,  dull,  dark 
monotony,  is  a  wet  blanket  to  cheerfulness.  I  really  think 
the  stillness  of  a  large  prairie  is  one  of  the  most  painful 
sensations  of  loneliness,  a  man  ever  encountered.  The 
sombre  and  dreary  monotony  of  a  dungeon,  is  scarcely  a 
comparison  ;  in  fact,  language  fails  to  describe  the  essen 
tially  double-distilled  monotony  of  these  great  American 
grass-patches — you  can't  call  them  deserts,  for  at  times  they 
represent  interminable  flower-gardens,  of  the  most  elegant 
and  voluptuous  description. 

Oh,  how  home  and  its  comforts  floated  in  my  mind's  eye  ; 
how  I  envied — not  for  the  first  time  either — the  unthankful' 
inmates  of  even  a  second-rate  boarding-house  !  A  negro 
cabin,  a  shed,  dog  kennel,  and  a  hoe  cake,  had  charms,  in 
my  thoughts,  just  then,  enough  to  exalt  them  into  fit  themes 
for  the  poets  and  painters.  Having  trudged  along,  at  least 


112  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

three  miles,  in  one  direction,  I  struck  a  large  mot,  that  jut 
ted  out  into  the  prairie.  Here  I  concluded  it  was  best  to 
hang  up  for  the  night.  I  was  soaking  wet — hungry  and 
wolfish  enough.  My  utter  desperation  induced  me  to  work 
for  an  hour  with  some  percussion  caps,  powder,  and  a  piece 
of  greased  tow  linen,  to  get  a  blaze  of  fire,  Ingins  or  no 
Ingins.  I  began  to  wish  I  was  a  Camanche  myself,  or  that 
the  red  devils  would  surround  me,  give  me  one  bite  and  a 
drink,  and  I'd  die  happy.  All  of  a  sudden,  I  got  sight  of 
a  blaze  !  Yes,  a  real  fire  loomed  up  in  the  distance  !  It 
was  Mat  and  his  deer,  in  luck,  doing  well,  while  I  was  cold 
as  Caucasus,  and  hollow  as  a  flute.  I  riz,  stretched  my  stiff 
limbs,  and  struck  a  bee  line  for  the  light.  After  wading, 
stumbling,  and  tramping,  until  my  weary  legs  would  bear 
me  no  longer,  I  had  the  mortification  to  see  the  fire  at  as 
great  a  distance  as  when  I  first  started.  This  about  knock 
ed  me.  I  concluded  to  give  up  right  in  my  tracks,  and  let 
myself  be  wet  down  into  papier  mache  by  the  descending 
elements.  Blessed  was  he  that  invented  sleep,  says  Saucho 
Panza,  but  he  was  a  better  workman  that  invented  spunk. 
All  of  a  sudden  I  plucked  up  my  spunk,  and  by  a  sort  of 
martial  command,  ordered  my  limbs  to  duty,  and  marched 
straight  for  the  fire  in  the  weary  distance.  A  steady  and 
toilsome  perseverance  over  brake  and  bush,  mud,  ravine, 
grass  and  water,  at  length  brought  me  near  the  fire.  And 
then,  suspicion  arose,  if  I  fell  upon  a  Mexican  or  Indian 
camp,  the  evils  and  perils  of  the  night  would  turn  up  in  the 
morning  with  a  human  barbecue,  arid  these  impressions 
were  nearly  sufficient  inducement  for  me  to  go  no  further. 
It  might  be  my  friend  Mat's  fire,  and  it  might  not  be  :  it 
wasn't  very  likely  he  would  dare  to  raise  a  fire,  and  the 
more  I  debated,  the  worse  complexion  things  bore.  Invol 
untarily,  however,  I  edged  on  up  towards  the  fire,  which 
was  going  down  apparently.  Coming  to  a  bayou,  I  rccon- 
noitered  some  time.  All  was  quiet,  save  the  pattering  of 


A  NIGHT  ADVENTURE  IN  PRAIRIE  LAND.    113 

the  rain  in  the  grass,  and  on  the  scattering  lofty  trees.  I 
stood  still  and  absorbed,  watching  the  dying  fire,  for  an 
hour  or  two.  I  was  within  half  a  mile  of  it ;  the  intense 
darkness  that  usually  precedes  day  had  passed,  and  a 
murky,  rainy  morning  was  dawning.  Cheerless,  fatigued, 
and  hungry  beyond  all  mental  supervision  or  fear,  I  marched 
point  blank  up  to  the  fire,  and  there  lay — not  a  tribe  of 
Mexicans  or  Camanches,  but  my  comrade  Mat,  fast  asleep, 
under  the  lee  of  a  huge  dead  and  fallen  cotton-wood,  along 
side  of  the  fire,  warm,  dry,  and  comfortable  as  a  bug  in  a 
rug! 

I  gave  one  shout,  that  would  have  riz  the  scalp  lock  of 
any  red  skin  within  ten  miles,  and  Mat  started  upon  his 
feet  and  snatched  his  "  Yeager"  from  under  the  log  quicker 
than  death. 

"  Ho-o-o-ld  yer  hoss,  stranger,"  I  yelled,  "I'm  only 
going  to  eat  ye  I" 

Mat  and  I  fraternized,  quick  and  strong.  A  piece  of 
his  fawn  was  jerked  and  roasted  in  a  giffy.  After  gorman 
dizing  about  five  pounds,  and  getting  a  few  whiffs  at  Mat's 
old  stone  pipe,  I  took  his  nest  under  the  log,  and  slept  a 
few  hours  sound  as  a  pig  of  lead. 

Waked  up,  prime — stowed  away  a  few  more  pounds  of 
the  fawn,  and  then  we  started  for  camp.  Living  and  faring 
in  this  manner,  for  from  three  to  twelve  months,  may  give 
you  some  idea  of  the  training  the  heroes  of  San  Jacinto 
had. 


Boosting 


IN  1837,  after  the  capture  of  Santa  Anna,  by  General 
Samuel  Houston  and  his  little  Spartan  band,  which 
event  settled  the  war,  and  something  like  tranquillity  being 
restored  to  Texas,  several  of  us  adventurers  formed  a  small 
hunting  party,  and  took  to  the  woods,  in  a  circuitous  tour 
up  and  across  the  Sabine,  and  so  into  the  United  States, 
homeward  bound. 

There  were  seven  men,  two  black  boys,  belonging  to  Dr. 
Clenen,  one  of  our  "  voyageurs,"  and  eleven  horses  and 
mules,  in  the  party  ;  and  with  a  tolerable  fair  camp  equi 
page,  plenty  of  ammunition,  one  or  two  "old  campaign 
ers"  and  three  monstrous  clever  dogs,  it  was  naturally  sup 
posed  we  should  have  a  pleasant  time.  The  first  five  days 
were  cold,  being  early  Spring,  wet,  and  not  very  interest 
ing  ;  but  as  all  of  the  party  had  seen  some  service,  and  not 
expecting  the  comforts  and  delicacies  of  civilization,  they 
were  all  the  better  prepared  to  take  things  as  they  came, 
and  by  the  smooth  handle.  The  idea  was  to  travel  slow, 
and  reach  Jonesboro'  or  Red  River,  or  keep  on  the  Ar 
kansas,  and  strike  near  Fort  Smith,  in  twenty  or  thirty 
days.  We  left  Houston  in  the  morning,  passed  Montgo 
mery,  and  kept  on  W.  by  N.  between  the  Rio  Brasos  and 
Trinity  River,  the  first  five  days,  then  stood  off  north  for 
the  head  of  the  Sabine. 

Game  was  very  sparse,  and  rather  shy,  but  falling  in 
with  some  wild  turkeys,  and  a  bee  tree,  we  laid  by  two  days 
and  lived  like  fighting  cocks.  The  turkeys  were  picked 
off  the  tall  trees,  as  they  roosted  after  night,  by  rifle  shots, 
and  no  game  I  ever  fed  on  can  exceed  the  rich  flavor  of  a 
(114) 


ROOSTING   OUT.  115 

well-roasted,  fat  wild  turkey.  The  bee  tree  was  a  crowder 
— a  large,  hollow  Cyprus,  about  sixty  feet  high,  straight  as 
a  barber  pole,  and  nearly  seven  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base, 
and  full  three  feet  through  at  the  first  branch,  forty  feet  up. 
This  must  have  been  the  hive  of  many  and  many  a  swarm, 
for  years  past;  the  tree  was  cut  down,  and  contained  from 
one  to  three  hundred  gallons  of  honey  and  comb  !  Nor  are 
such  bee  trees  scarce  about  the  head  of  the  Sabine,  Red 
River,  &c.  Bears  are  very  fond  of  honey.  The  weather 
then  being  much  improved,  it  was  suggested  that  the  camp 
should  be  moved  a  few  miles  off,  and  leave  the  bee  tree  and 
its  great  surplus  contents,  to  the  bears  ;  and  if  they  did 
come  about,  we  should  come  back  and  have  a  few  pops  at 
them.  The  plan  was  feasible,  and  all  agreed ;  so,  remov 
ing  a  few  gallons  of  the  translucent  delicacy,  the  camp  was 
struck,  and,  following  an  old  trail  a  few  miles,  we  found  a 
delightful  site  for  recamping  under  some  large  oaks  on  a 
creek,  a  tributary  of  the  Sabine  river. 

Some  of  the  "  boys,"  as  each  styled  the  others,  during 
the  day  had  found  "a  deer  lick,"  about  three  miles  above 
the  camp,  and  to  vary  the  viands  a  little,  it  was  proposed 
that  three  of  the  boys  should  go  up  after  dark,  lay  about, 
and  see  if  a  shot  could  be  had  at  some  of  the  visitors  of 
"the  lick." 

One  of  the  old  heads,  and  by-the-Avay  we  called  him  "old 
traps,"  from  the  fact  of  his  always  being  so  ready  to  ex 
plain  the  manner  and  uses  of  all  sorts  of  traps,  and  the 
inexhaustible  adventures  he  had  with  them  in  the  course 
of  twenty  years'  experience  in  the  far  west. 

Well,  "old  traps,"  Dr.  C.,  and  myself,  were  the  deputed 
committee,  that  night,  to  attend  to  the  cases  of  the  deer. 
Soon  after  dark  we  put  out,  and  in  the  course  of  a  couple 
of  hours,  after  some  floundering  in  a  muddy  "  bottom"  and 
through  hazel  brush,  or  chaparral,  the  "  lick"  was  found, 
and  positions  taken  for  raking  the  victims.  "  Old  traps'' 


116  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

took  a  lodge  in  a  clump  of  bushes,  Dr.  C.  and  I  squatted 
on  a  dead  tree,  with  a  few  bushes  around  it,  and  in  a  par 
ticularly  dark  spot,  from  the  fact  of  some  very  heavy  tim 
ber  with  wide-spreading  tops  standing  around  and  nearly 
over  us. 

The  ability  of  keeping  still  in  a  disagreeable  situation, 
for  along  time,  is  most  desirable  and  necessary  in  the  cha 
racter  of  a  hunter ; — some  men  have  a  faculty  for  holding 
a  fishing-rod  hours  at  a  time  over  a  fishless  tide,  with  won 
drous  ardor ;  and  I  have  known  men  to  watch  deer,  bear, 
and  other  game,  in  one  position,  for  ten  or  twenty  hours. 
Sauntering  up  and  down  in  the  dark,  with  wind  and  rain, 
and  a  musket  in  your  arms  for  company,  is  not  pleasant 
pastime  ;  but  my  patience  revolted  at  the  idea  of  squatting 
on  the  wet  log,  all  cramped  up,  three  or  four  hours,  and  no 
deer  making  their  appearance  ;  Doctor  and  I  made  up  our 
minds  to  arouse  "old  traps,"  and  patter  back  to  the  camp. 
Just  as  the  resolution  was  about  to  be  put  in  action,  two 
deer,  fine  antlered  customers,  made  their  appearance  about 
three  hundred  yards  from  us,  out  on  a  small  plain,  where 
their  sprightly  forms  could  just  be  made  out  as  they  lei 
surely  stepped  along.  Getting  near  "  old  traps,"  he  soon 
convinced  us  that  his  eye  was  still  open,  although  we  had 
concluded  he  was  fast  asleep.  The  sharp,  whip-like  crack 
of  "old  traps'  "  rifle  brought  down  one  of  the  deer,  and 
the  other,  in  bounds  of  thirty  or  forty  feet  at  a  spring, 
whisked  nearly  over  us,  and  the  Doctor  and  I  fired  at  the 
flying  deer  as  he  came ;  neither  shot  took  effect,  and  off  he 
sped. 

"  Hurrah  !  for  the  old  boy  !"  shouted  the  Doctor,  as  we 
all  bustled  up  to  where  the  deer  lay  kicking  and  plunging 
in  his  death  throes.  "By  Jove,  '  traps,'  you've  put  a  ball 
clean  through  his  head  !" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  traps ;  "  I  oilers  fix  game  that  way,  my 
self." 


ROOSTING   OUT.  117 

"Except  when  you  fix  them  with  the  traps,  eh  ?"  said  I. 

"  'Zactly,"  said  traps.  "  But  now,  boys,"  he  continued 
loading  up  his  rifle,  "  now  let's  snatch  off  the  creature's 
hide,  quarter  it,  and  travel  back  to  the  camp,  for  we  ain't 
gwoine  to  have  any  more  deer  to-night." 

This  was  soon  accomplished.  Trap  seized  the  hind  quar 
ters  and  hide,  and  travelled  ;  Doctor  and  I  brought  up  the 
rear  with  the  rest  of  the  meat  and  fat. 

To  avoid  the  muddy  "  bottom,"  in  going  back,  we  con 
cluded  to  take  a  little  round-about  way,  and  relieved  one 
another  by  taking  "  spells"  at  carrying  the  rifles  and  the 
meat.  We  jogged  along,  chatting  away,  for  some  time, 
when  it  occurred  to  us  that  we  were  getting  very  near  the 
camp,  or  ought  to  be,  for  we  had  walked  long  and  fast 
enough. 

Doctor  was  trudging  on  ahead  with  the  meat ;  I  was 
behind  some  twenty  yards  with  both  rifles  ;  we  were  passing 
through  some  thin  timber  which  skirted  a  little  prairie,  out 
on  which  we  could  see  quite  distinctly ;  Doctor  made  a  sud 
den  halt — 

"  Hollo  !  by  Jove,  what's  that  ?" 

"What?  eh  ?  where  ?»  said  I,  bustling  up  to  the  Doc 
tor,  who  made  free  to  drop  the  meat,  wheeled  about, 
snatched  his  rifle  out  of  my  fists  and  broke  ! 

"  A  grizzly  bear  coming,  by  thunder  !" 

Upon  that  hint  there  were  two  gentlemen  seen  hurrying 
themselves  somewhat,  I  reckon,  on  the  back  track.  Doctor 
was  what  you  might  call  a  fast  trotter,  but  when  he  broke 
into  a  full  gallop  the  odds  against  me  were  dreadful !  I 
was  fairly  distanced,  and  when  perfectly  blowed  out  stopped 
to  pull  the  briars  out  of  my  torn  trowsers,  scratched  face 
and  dishevelled  locks,  listen  to  the  enemy,  and  ascertain 
where  the  Doctor  had  got  to.  No  sound  broke  the  reign 
ing  stillness,  save  the  sonorous  "coo-hoot"  of  an  owl.  My 
rifle  was  empty,  and  a  search  satisfied  me  that  my  caps 


118  HUMORS    OF   FALCONB1UDGE. 

were  not  to  be  found.  My  own  cap  had  also  disappeared 
in  the  fright,  and  I  was  in  a  bad  way  for  defence,  and  com 
pletely  at  a  dead  loss  as  to  the  bearings  of  the  camp. 

"Well,"  thinks  I,  "it's  no  particular  use  crying  over 
spilt  milk — it's  no  use  to  move  when  there  is  no  idea  exist 
ing  of  bettering  one's  self,  so  here  I'll  roost  until  daylight, 
unless  Doctor  comes  back  to  hunt  me  up  !"  I  judged  it 
was  not  far  from  2  o'clock,  A.  M.,  and  believed  it  possible 
that  our  venison  might  only  whet  a  grizzly  bear's  appetite 
to  follow  up  the  pursuit  and  gormandize  me ! — A  proper 
site  for  a  roost  was  the  next  matter  of  importance,  and  a 
scrubby  oak  with  a  thick  top,  close  by,  offered  an  inviting 
elevation  to  lodge. 

A  long,  long  time  seemed  the  coming  day  ;  and  the  sharp 
air  of  its  approach,  and  heavy  dew,  made  "perching"  iu  a 
crotch  very  fatiguing  "pastime." 

When  light  began  to  dawn,  sliding  down  I  took  an  obser 
vation  that  convinced  me,  according  to  Indian  signs,  that 
Doctor  and  I  had  gone  South  too  far  to  hit  the  camp,  and, 
to  the  best  of  my  reckoning,  the  old  bee  tree  was  not  far 
out  of  my  way,  and  that  I  now  struck  for. 

About  noon,  and  a  lovely  day  it  was,  I  discovered  the 
bee  tree,  made  a  dinner  on  honey,  which  was  scattered 
about  considerably,  giving  evidence  of  its  having  been 
visited  by  our  rugged  Russian  friends. 

And  now,  feeling  anxious  to  see  human  faces,  and  not 
linger  about  a  spot  where  troublesome  customers  might 
abound,  I  made  tracks  for  the  camp,  which  was  reached 
about  sundown,  and  where  I  found,  to  my  regret,  the  Doc 
tor  had  not  come  in  yet. 

"  Old  Traps"  had  returned  all  safe  enough,  and  had  been 
prophesying  "  the  boys"  were  lost,  and  would  not  soon  be 
found  again.  However,  the  old  fellow  put  away  his  deer 
skin,  which  he  had  been  cleaning,  <fcc.,  to  give  me  a  feed 
of  the  deer,  a  few  remnants  yet  remaining,  and  from  my 


BATHER   TWANGY.  119 

exercise  and  fasting,  never  was  a  rude  meal  more  luxurious. 
Two  of  the  party,  with  one  of  the  black  boys,  and  a  mule, 
had  been  out  since  noon  in  quest  of  us,  and  about  midnight 
they  returned  with  the  Doctor,  who  congratulated  me  on 
what  he  had  estimated  as  an  escape.  So  did  I.  We  all 
concluded  it  was  a  DEER  hunt  !  Though  we  "  had  a  time" 
at  the  bee  tree,  next  night,  that  made  us  about  square. 


THREE  Irishmen,  green  as  the  Isle  that  per-duced  'em, 
but  full  of  sin,  and  fond  of  the  crater,  broke  into  a  country 
store  down  in  Maine,  one  night  last  week,  and  after  striking 
a  light,  they  lit  upon  a  large  demijohn,  having  the  suspicious 
look  of  a  whiskey  holder.  One  held  the  light,  while  another 
held  up  the  demi  to  his  mouth,  and  took  a  small  taster. 

"Arrah,  what  a  twang!  An'  it's  what  they  call  She- 
maky,  I'm  thinkin' !"  says  the  fellow,  screwing  his  face  into 
all  manner  of  puckers. 

"  It's  the  very  stuff,  thin,  for  me,  so  hould  the  light,  and 
I'll  take  a  swig  at  'im,"  says  Paddy  number  two.  "  Agh!" 
says  he,  putting  down  the  demijohn  in  haste,  "it's  rale 
bhrandy — agh-h  /" 

"Branthy?  Thin  it's  meself  as'll  have  a  wee  bit  uv  a 
swig  at  'em,"  and  Paddy  number  three  took  hold,  and  down 
he  rushed  a  good  slew  of  it ! 

"Murther  and  turf!  It's  every  divil  ov  us  are  pizened — 
o-o-och  !  Murther-r-r  !"  and  he  raised  such  a  hullaballoo, 
that  the  neighbors  were  awakened.  They  came  rushing  in, 
and  arrested  Paddy  number  three.  The  others  fled,  with 
their  bellies  full  of  washing  fluid !  The  poor  fellow  had 
drank  nearly  a  pint ;  being  possessed  with  a  gutta  percha 
stomach,  he  stood  the  infliction  without  kicking  the  bucket, 
but  he  was  bleached,  in  two  days — white  as  a  bolt  of  cot 
ton  cloth ! 


asshig  ^romfo  %  J^bkr! 

A   DINNER  SKETCH, 

A  FEW  weeks  ago,  during  a  passage  from  Gotham  to 
Boston,  on  the  "Empire  State,"  one  of  the  most 
elegant  and  swift  steamers  that  ever  man's  ingenuity  put 
upon  the  waters,  I  met  a  well-known  joker  from  the  Quaker 
city,  on  his  first  trip  "down  East."  After  mutually  ex 
amining  and  eulogising  the  external  appearance  and  inter 
nal  arrangements  of  the  "Empire,"  winding  up  our  inves 
tigation,  of  course,  with  a  look  into  a  small  corner  cupboard 

in  the  barber's  office,  where  a  superb  smile — as  is  a  smile 

can  be  usually  enjoyed  by  the  nobbish  investment  of  a  York 
shilling  ;  soon  after  passing  through  "  Hell  Gate"— glid 
ing  by  the  beautiful  villas,  chateaux,  and  almost  princely 
palaces  of  the  business  men  of  the  great  city  of  New  York, 
we  were  soon  out  upon  the  broad,  deep  Sound,  a  glorious 
place  for  steam-boating.  Soon  after,  the  bells  announced 
"supper  ready" — a  general  stampede  into  the  spacious 
cabin  took  place,  and  though  the  tables  strung  along  forty 
rods  on  each  side  of  the  great  cabin,  not  over  half  the 
crowd  got  seats  upon  this  interesting  occasion.  I  was 
about  with  my  friend— in  time,  stuck  our  legs  under  the 
mahogany,  and  gazed  upon  the  open  prospect  for  a  supper 
superb  enough  in  all  its  details  to  tempt  a  jolly  old  friar 
from  his  devotions.  We  got  along  very  nicely.  An  old 
chap  who  sat  above  us  some  seats,  and  whose  rotund  deve 
lopments  gave  any  ordinary  observer  reason  to  suppose  his 
appetite  as  unquenchable  as  the  Maelstrom,  kept  reaching 
about,  and  when  tempting  vessels  were  too  remote,  he'd 
bawl  "right  eout"  for  them. 
(120) 


PASSING   AROUND   THE   FODDER  !  121 

"Halloo  !  I  say  you,  Mister  there,  just  hand  along  that 
saas  ;  give  us  a  chance,  will  ye,  at  that ;  notion  on't,  what 
d'ye  call  that  stuff  ?» 

"  This  ?"  says  one,  passing  along  a  dish. 

"  Pshaw,  no,  t'other  there." 

"  Oh  !  ah  !  yes,  this,11  says  my  facetious  friend. 

"  Well,  that  ain't  it,  but  no  odds  ;  fetch  it  along  !"  and 
down  we  sent  the  biggest  dish  of  meat  in  our  neighbor 
hood. 

''Now,"  says  I,  "my  boy,  I'll  show  you  a  'dodge.'  We'll 
see  how  it  works." 

Filling  a  plate  full  to  the  brim,  with  all  and  each  of  the 
various  heavy  courses  in  our  vicinity,  I  very  politely  passed 
it  over  to  my  next  neighbor  with — 

"  Please  to  pass  that  up,  sir  ?" 

"  Umph,  eh?"  says  the  gentleman,  taking  hold  of  the 
plate  very  gingerly  ;  "pass  it  upf11 

"  Aye,  yes,  if  you  please,"  says  I. 

By  this  time  he  had  fairly  got  the  loaded  plate  in  his 
fists,  and  began  to  look  about  him  where  to  pass  the  plate 
to.  Nobody  in  particular  seemed  on  the  watch  for  a  spare 
plate.  The  gent  looked  back  at  me,  but  I  was  "  cutting 
away"  and  watching  from  the  extreme  corner  of  my  left 
eye  the  victim  and  his  charge,  while  I  pressed  hard  upon 
the  corn  pile  of  my  friend's  foot  under  the  table. 

At  length,  the  victim  thought  he  saw  some  one  up  the 
table  waiting  for  the  plate,  and  quickly  he  whispered  to  his 
next  neighbor — . 

"Please,  sir,  to-to-a,  just  pass  this  plate  up!11 

The  man  took  the  plate,  and  being  more  of  a  practidn 
operator  than  his  neighbor,  gave  the  plate  over  to  7m  next 
neighbor,  with — 

"Pass  this  plate  up  to  that  gentleman,  if  you  please," 
dodging  his  fhead  towards  an  old  gent  in  specs,  who  sat 


122  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

near  the  head  of  the  table,  grinning  a  ghastly  smile  over 
the  field  of  good  things. 

"It's  going!" 

"  What  ?"  says  my  friend. 

"  The  plate  ;  it's  going  the  rounds  ;  just  you  keep  quiet, 
you'll  see  a  good  thing." 

The  plate,  at  length,  got  to  the  head  of  the  table.  It 
was  given  to  the  old  gentleman  in  specs  ;  he  looked  over 
the  top  of  his  specs  very  deliberately  at  the  "fodder,"  then 
back  at  the  thin,  pale,  student-looking  youth  who  handed 
it  to  him,  then  up  and  down  the  table.  A  raw-boned, 
gaunt  and  hollow-looking  disciple  caught  the  eye  of  the  old 
gent  ;  he  must  be  the  man  who  wanted  the  "load."  His 

lips  quacked  as  if  in  the  act  of — "pass  this  plate,  sir," to 

his  next  neighbor  ;  he  was  too  far  off  for  us  to  hear  his 
discourse.  Well,  the  plate  came  booming  along  down  the 
opposite  side  ;  the  tall  man  declined  it  and  gave  it  over  to 
his  next  neighbor,  who  seemed  a  little  tempted  to  take  hold 
of  the  invoice,  but  just  then  it  occurred  to  him,  probably, 
that  he  was  keeping  somebody  (!)  out  of  his  grub,  so  he 
quickly  turned  to  his  neighbor  and  passed  the  plate.  One 
or  two  more  moves  brought  the  plate  within  our  range, 
and  there  it  liked  to  have  stuck,  for  a  fussy  old  Englishman, 
in  whom  politeness  did  not  stick  out  very  prominently, 
grunted — 

"  I  don't  want  it,  sir." 

11  Well,  but,  sir,  please  pass  it,"  says  the  last  victim,  be 
seechingly  holding  out  the  plate. 

"Pass  it?  Here,  mister,  's  your  plate,"  says  Bull,  at 
length  reluctantly  seizing  on  the  plate,  and  rushing  it  on 
to  his  next  neighbor,  who  started — 

"Not  mine,  sir." 

"Not  yours  1  Who  does  it  belong  to  ?  Pass  it  down  to 
somebody." 


A   HINT   TO    SOYER.  123 

Off  went  the  plate  again.  Several  ladies  turned  up  their 
pretty  eyes  and  noses  while  the  gents  passed  it  by  them. 

"Why,  if  there  ain't  that  plate  a  going  the  rounds,  that 
you  gave  me  !"  says  my  next  neighbor,  to  whom  I  had  first 
given  the  "  currency." 

"  That  plate  ?  Oh,  yes,  so  it  is ;  well,"  says  I,  with 
feigned  astonishment,  "  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  a 
good  supper  so  universally  discarded  !" 

The  plate  was  off  again.  It  reached  the  foot  of  the 
table.  An  elderly  lady  looked  up,  looked  around,  removed 
a  large  sweet  potato  from  the  pile — then  passed  it  along. 
An  old  salty-looking  captain,  just  then  took  a  vacant  seat, 
and  the  plate  reached  him  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  He 
looked  voracious — 

"Ah,"  said  he,  with  a  savage  growl,  "that's  your  sort ; 
thunder  and  oakum,  I'm  as  peckish  as  a  shark,  and  here's 
the  duff  for  me!" 

That  ended  the  peregrinations  of  the  plate,  and  I  and 
my  friend — yelled  right  out  I 


ut  to 


MAGRTJNDY  says,  in  his  work  on  Grub,  that  a  Frenchman 
will  "  frigazee"  a  pair  of  old  boots  and  make  a  respectable 
soup  out  of  an  ancient  chapeau  ;  but  our  friend  Perriwinkle 
affirms  that  the  French  ain't  "  nowhere,"  after  a  feat  he 
saw  in  the  kitchen  arrangement  of  a  "  cheap  boarding 
house"  in  the  North  End  :  —  the  landlady  made  a  chowder 
out  of  an  old  broom  mixed  with  sinders,  and  after  all  the 
boarders  had  dined  upon  it  scrumptiously,  the  remains  made 
broth  for  the  whole  family,  next  day,  besides  plenty  of 
fragments  left  for  a  poor  family  !  That  landlady  is  bound— 
to  make  Home  howl  ! 


gcg  of  glutton. 

I'M  going  to  state  to  you  the  remarkable  adventures  of  a 
very  remarkable  man,  who  went  to  market  to  get  a  leg  of 
mutton  for  his  Sunday  dinner.  I  have  heard,  or  read  some 
where  or  other,  almost  similar  stories;  whether  they  were 
real  or  imaginary,  I  am  unable  to  say  ;  but  I  can  vouch  for 
the  authenticity  of  my  story,  for  I  know  the  hero  well. 

In  the  year  1812,  it  will  be  recollected  that  we  had  some 
military  disputes  with  England,  which  elicited  some  pretty 
tall  fights  by  land  and  sea,  and  the  land  we  live  in  was  con 
siderably  excited  upon  the  subject,  and  patriotism  rose  to 
many  degrees  above  blood  heat.  Philadelphia,  about  that 
time,  like  all  other  cities,  I  suppose,  was  the  scene  of  drum- 
beating,  marching  and  counter-marching,  and  volunteering 
of  the  patriotic  people. 

The  President  sent  forth  his  proclamations,  the  govern 
ors  of  the  respective  States  reiterated  them,  and  a  large 
portion  of  our  brave  republicans  were  soon  in  or  marching 
to  the  battle  field.  There  lived  and  wrought  at  his  trade, 
carpentering,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  about  that  time, 
a  very  tall,  slim  man,  named  Houp  ;  Peter  Houp,  that  was 
his  name.  He  was  a  very  steady,  upright,  and  honest  man, 
married,  had  a  small,  comfortable  family,  and  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  settled  down  for  life.  How  deceptive,  how 
unstable,  how  uncertain  is  man,  to  say  nothing  of  the  more 
frail  portion  of  the  creation — woman  !  Peter  Houp  one 
fair  morning  took  his  basket  on  his  arm,  and  off  he  went  to 
get  a  leg  of  mutton  and  trimmings  for  his  next  Sunday's 
dinner.  Beyond  the  object  of  research,  Peter  never  dreamed 
of  extending  his  travels  for  that  day,  certain.  A  leg  of 
(124) 


THE   LEG    OF   MUTTON.  125 

mutton  is  not  an  indifferent  article,  well  cooked,  a  matter 
somewhat  different  to  amateur  cooks ;  and  as  good  legs  of 
mutton  as  can  be  found  on  this  side  of  the  big  pond,  can 
be  found  almost  any  Saturday  morning  in  the  Pennsylvania 
market  wagons,  which  congregate  along  Second  street,  for 
a  mile  or  two  in  a  string.  Peter  could  have  secured  his 
leg  and  brought  it  home  in  an  hour  or  two  at  most. 

But  hours  passed,  noon  came,  and  night  followed  it,  and 
in  the  course  of  time,  the  morrow,  the  joyous  Sunday,  for 
which  the  leg  of  mutton  was  to  be  brought  and  prepared, 
and  offered  up,  a  sacrifice  to  the  household  gods  and  grate 
ful  appetites,  came,  but  neither  the  leg  of  mutton,  nor  the 
man  Peter,  husband  and  father  Houp,  darkened  the  doors 
of  the  carpenter's  humble  domicil,  that  day,  the  next  or  the 
next !  I  cannot,  of  course,  realize  half  the  agony  or  tor 
tures  of  suspense  that  must  have  preyed  upon  that  wife's 
heart  and  brain,  that  must  have  haunted  her  feverish  dreams 
at  night,  and  her  aching  mind  by  day.  When  grim  death 
strikes  a  blow,  whenever  so  near  and  dear  a  friend  is  level 
led,  cold,  breathless,  dead — we  see,  we  know  there  is  the 
end  !  Grief  has  its  season,  the  bitterest  of  woe  then  calms, 
subsides,  or  ceases  ;  but  lost — which  hope  prevents  mourn 
ing  as  dead,  and  whose  death-like  absence  almost  precludes 
the  idea  that  they  live,  engenders  in  the  soul  of  true  affec 
tion,  a  gloomy,  torturing  and  desponding  sorrow,  more 
agonizing  than  the  sting  actual  death  leaves  behind.  I  have 
endeavored  to  depict  what  must  have  been,  what  were  the 
feelings  of  Peter  Houp's  wife.  She  mourned  and  grieved, 
and  still  hoped  on,  though  months  and  years  passed  away 
without  imparting  the  slightest  clue  to  the  unfortunate  fate 
of  her  husband.  Her  three  children,  two  boys  and  a  girl, 
grew  up ;  ten,  eleven,  twelve  years  passed  away,  with  no  ti 
dings  of  the  lost  man  having  reached  his  family  ;  but  they 
still  lived  with  a  kind  of  despairing  hope  that  the  husband 
and  father  would  yet  come  koine,  and  so  lie  did. 


126  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Let  us  see  what  became  of  Peter  Houp,  the  carpenter. 
As  he  strolled  along  with  his  basket  under  his  arm,  on  the 
eventful  morning  he  sought  the  leg  of  mutton,  he  met  a 
platoon  of  men  dressed  up  in  uniform,  muskets  on  their 
shoulders,  colors  flying,  drums  beating,  and  a  mob  of 
hurrahers  following  and  shouting  for  the  volunteers.  Yes, 
it  was  a  company  of  volunteers,  just  about  shipping  off  for 
the  South,  to  join  the  "  Old  Zack"  of  that  day,  General 
Jackson.  Peter  Houp  saw  in  the  ranks  of  the  volunteers 
several  of  his  old  chums  ;  he  spoke  to  them,  walked  along 
\\  ith  the  men  of  Mars,  got  inspired — patriotic — drunk. 
Two  days  after  that  eventful  Saturday,  on  which  the  quiet, 
honest,  and  industrious  carpenter  left  his  wife  and  children 
full  of  hope  and  happiness,  he  found  himself  in  blue  breeches, 
roundabout,  and  black  cap,  on  board  a  brig — bound  for 
New  Orleans.  A  volunteer  for  the  war  !  It  was  too  late 
to  repent  then  ;  the  brig  was  ploughing  her  way  through 
the  foaming  billows,  and  in  a  few  weeks  she  arrived  at  Mo 
bile,  as  she  could  not  reach  New  Orleans,  the  British  under 
General  Packenham  being  off  the  Balize.  So  the  volun 
teers  were  landed  at  Mobile,  and  hurried  on  over  land  to 
the  devoted  (or  was  to  be)  Crescent  city.  Peter  Houp  was 
not  only  a  good  nfan,  liable  as  all  men  are  to  make  a  false 
step  once  in  life,  but  a  brave  one.  Having  gone  so  far, 
and  made  a  step  so  hard  to  retrace,  Peter's  cool  reason  got 
bothered  ;  he  poured  the  spirits  down  to  keep  his  spirits 
up,  as  the  saying  goes,  and  abandoned  himself  to  fate. 
Caring  neither  for  life  nor  death,  he  was  found  behind  the 
cotton  bags,  which  he  had  assisted  in  getting  down  from 
the  city  to  the  battle  ground,  piled  up,  and  now  ready  to 
defend  his  country  while  life  lasted.  Peter  fought  well,  be 
ing  a  man  not  unlike  the  brave  Old  Hickory  himself,  tall, 
firm,  and  resolute-looking.  He  attracted  General  Jackson's 
attention  during  the  battle,  and  afterwards  was  personally 
complimented  for  his  skill  and  courage  by  the  victorious 


THE   LEG   OP   MUTTON.  127 

Commander-in-chief.  Every  body  knows  the  history  of 
the  battle  of  New  Orleans — I  need  not  relate  it.  After  the 
victory,  the  soldiers  were  allowed  considerable  license,  and 
they  made  New  Orleans  a  scene  of  revel  and  dissipation,  as 
all  cities  are  likely  to  represent  when  near  a  victorious 
army.  Peter  Houp  was  on  a  "regular  bender,"  a  "  big 
tare."  a  long  spree — and  for  one  so  unlike  any  thing  of  the 
kind,  he  went  it  with  a  perfect  looseness. 

A  rich  citizen's  house  was  robbed — burglariously  entered 
and  robbed  ;  and  Peter  Houp,  the  staid,  plain  Philadel 
phia  carpenter,  who  would  not  have  bartered  his  reputation 
for  all  the  ingots  of  the  Incas,  while  in  his  sober  senses, 
was  arrested  as  one  of  the  burglars,  and  the  imputation, 
false  or  true,  caused  him  to  spend  seven  years  in  a  peni 
tentiary.  0,  what  an  awful  probation  of  sorrow  and  men 
tal  agony  were  those  seven  long  years  !  But  they  passed 
over,  and  Peter  Houp  was  again  free,  not  a  worse  man,  for 
tunately,  but  a  much  wiser  one  !  He  had  not  seen  or  heard 
a  word  of  those  so  long  dearly  cherished,  and  cruelly  de 
serted — his  family — for  eight  years,  and  his  heart  yearned 
towards  them  so  strongly  that,  pennyless,  pale  and  care 
worn  as  he  was,  he  would  have  started  immediately  for 
home,  but  being  a  good  carpenter,  and  wages  high,  he  con 
cluded  to  go  to  work,  while  he  patiently  awaited  a  reply  of 
his  abandoned  family  to  his  long  and  penitent  written  letter. 
Weeks,  months,  and  a  year  passed,  and  no  reply  came, 
though  another  letter  was  dispatched,  for  fear  of  the  mis 
carriage  of  the  first ;  (and  both  letters  did  miscarry,  as  the 
wife  never  received  them.)  Peter  gave  himself  up  as  a  lost 
man,  his  family  lost  or  scattered,  and  nothing  but  death 
could  end  his  detailed  wretchedness.  But  still,  as  fortune 
would  have  it,  he  never  again  sought  refuge  from  his  sor 
rows  in  the  poisoned  chalice,  the  rum  glass;  not  he.  Peter 
toiled,  saved  his  money,  and  at  the  end  of  four  years  found 
himself  in  the  possession  of  a  snug  little  sum  of  hard  cash, 


128  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

and  a  fully  established  good  name.  But  all  of  this  time  he 
had  heard  not  a  syllable  of  his  home  ;  and  all  of  a  sudden, 
one  fine  day  in  early  spring,  he  took  passage  in  a  ship,  ar 
rived  in  Philadelphia ;  and  in  a  few  rods  from  the  wharf, 
upon  which  he  landed,  he  met  an  old  neighbor.  The  aston 
ishment  of  the  latter  seemed  wondrous  ;  he  burst  out — 

"  My  God  !  is  this  Peter  Houp,  come  from  his  grave  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Peter,  in  his  slow,  dry  way,  "  I'm  from  Xew 
Orleans." 

Peter  soon  learned  that  his  wife  and  children  yet  lived  in 
the  same  place,  and  long  mourned  him  as  forever  gone. 
Peter  Houp  felt  any  thing  but  merry,  but  he  was  determined 
to  have  his  joke  and  a  merry  meeting.  In  an  hour  or  two 
Peter  Houp,  the  long  lost  wanderer,  stood  in  his  own  door. 

"Well,  Nancy,  here  is  thy  leg  of  mutton!"  and  a  fine 
one  too  he  had. 

The  most  excellent  woman  was  alone.  She  was  of  Qua 
ker  origin  ;  sober  and  stoical  as  her  husband,  she  re 
garded  him  wistfully  as  he  stood  in  the  door,  for  a  long 
time  ;  at  last  she  spoke — 

"  Well,  Peter,  thee's  been  gone  a  long  time  for  it." 

The  next  moment  found  them  locked  in  each  other's 
arms ;  overtasked  nature  could  stand  no  more,  and  they 
both  cried  like  children. 

The  carpenter  has  once  held  offices  of  public  trust,  and 
lives  yet,  I  believe,  an  old  and  highly  respected  citizen  of 
"Brotherly  Love." 


on 


WE  all  love,  worship  and  adore  that  everlasting  deity 
—  money.  The  poor  feel  its  want,  the  rich  know 
its  power.  Virtue  falls  before  its  corrupting  and  seductive 
influence.  Honor  is  tainted  by  it.  Pride,  pomp  and 
power,  are  but  the  creatures  of  money,  and  which  corrupt 
hearts  and  enslaved  souls  wield  to  the  great  annoyance  — 
yea,  curse  of  mankind  in  general. 

It  is  well,  that,  though  we  are  all  fond  of  money,  not 
over  one  in  a  thousand,  prove  miserable  misers,  and  go  on 
to  amass  dollar  upon  dollar,  until  the  shining  heaps  of  gar 
nered  gold  and  silver  become  a  god,  and  a  faith,  that  the 
rich  wretch  worships  with  the  tenacious  devotion  of  the 
most  frenzied  fanatic.  In  the  accumulation  of  a  competency, 
against  the  odds  and  chances  of  advanced  life,  a  man  may 
be  pardoned  for  a  degree  of  economical  prudence  ;  but  for 
parsimonious  meanness,  there  is  certainly  no  excuse.  I 
have  heard  my  father  speak  of  an  old  miserly  fellow,  who 
owned  a  great  many  blocks  of  buildings  in  Philadelphia,  as 
well  as  many  excellent  farms  around  there,  and  who,  though 
rich  as  a  Jew  (worth  $200,000),  was  so  despicably  and 
scandalously  mean,  as  to  go  through  the  markets  and  beg 
bones  of  the  butchers,  to  make  himself  and  family  soup  for 
their  dinners  !  He  resorted  to  a  score  of  similar  humiliating 
"dodges,"  whereby  to  prolong  his  miserable  existence,  and 
add  dime  and  dollar  to  his  already  bursting  coffers. 

At  length,  Death   knocked  at  his  door.     The  debt  was 

one  the  poor  wretch  would  fain  have  gotten  a  little  more 

time  on,  but  the  Court  of  Death  brooks  no  delay  —  there  is 

no  cunning  devise  of  learned  counsel,  no  writs  of  error,  by 

8  (129) 


130  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

which  even  a  miserable  miser,  or  voluptuous  millionaire,  can 
gain  a  moment's  delay  when  death  issues  his  summons.  The 
miser  was  called  for,  and  he  knew  his  time  had  come.  He 
sent  for  the  undertaker,  he  bargained  for  his  burial — 

"They  say  I'm  rich!  it's  a  lie,  sir — I'm  poor,  miserably 
poor.  I  want  but  three  carriages.  My  children  may  want 
a  dozen — I  say  but  three;  put  that  down.  A  very  plain 
coffin ;  pine,  stained  will  do,  and  no  ornaments,  hark  ye. 
A  cheap  grave.  I  would  be  buried  on  one  of  my  farms, 
but  then  the  coach-drivers  would  charge  so  much  to  carry 
me  out !  Now,  what  will  you  ask  for  the  job  ?" 

"About  thirty  dollars,  sir,"  said  the  almost  horrified 
undertaker. 

"Thirty  dollars!  why,  do  you  want  to  rob  me?  Say 
fifteen  dollars — give  me  a  receipt — and  P II  pay  you  the 
cash  down  /" 

Poor  wretch !  by  the  time  he  had  uttered  this,  his  soul 
had  flown  to  its  resting-place  in  another  world. 

In  the  upper  part  of  Boston,  on  what  is  called  "the 
Neck,"  there  lived,  some  years  ago,  a  wealthy  old  man,  who 
resorted  to  sundry  curious  methods  to  live  without  cost  to 
himself.  His  house — one  of  the  handsomest  mansions  in 
the  "South  End,"  in  its  day — stood  near  the  road  over 
which  the  gardeners,  in  times  past,  used  to  go  to  market, 
with  their  loads  of  vegetables,  two  days  of  each  week.  Old 
Gripes  would  be  up  before  day,  and  on  the  lookout  for 
these  wagons. 

"  Halloo  !  what  have  you  got  there  ?"  says  the  miser  to 
the  countryman. 

"  Well,  daddy,  a  little  of  all  sorts ;  potatoes,  cabbages, 
turnips,  parsnips,  and  so  on.  Won't  you  look  at  'em  ?" 

At  this,  the  old  miser  would  begin  to  fumble  over  the 
vegetables,  pocket  a  potatoe,  an  onion,  turnip,  or — 

"  Ah,  yes,  they  are  good  enough,  but  we  poor  creatures 
can't  afford  to  pay  such  prices  as  you  ask  ;  no,  no — we 


A   CHAPTER    ON    MISERS.  131 

must  wait  until  they  come  down."  The  old  miser  would 
sneak  into  the  house  with  his  stolen  vegetables,  and  the 
fanner  would  drive  on.  Then  back  would  come  the  miser, 
and  lay  in  ambush  for  another  load,  and  thus,  in  course  of 
a  few  hours,  he  would  raise  enough  vegetables  to  give  his 
household  a  dinner.  Another  "  dodge"  of  this  artful  old 
dodger,  was  to  take  all  the  coppers  he  got  (and,  of  course, 
a  poor  creature  like  him  handled  a  great  many),  and  then 
go  abroad  among  the  stores  and  trade  off  six  for  a  four- 
pence,  and  when  he  had  four  fourpences,  get  a  quarter  of  a 
dollar  for  them,  and  thus  in  getting  a  dollar,  he  made  four 
per  cent.,  by  several  hours'  disgusting  meanness  and  labor. 

But  one  day  the  old  miser  ran  foul  of  a  snag.  A  market- 
man  had  watched  him  for  some  time  purloining  his  vege 
tables,  and  on  the  first  of  the  year,  sent  in  a  bill  of  several 
dollars,  for  turnips,  potatoes,  parsnips,  &c.  The  old  miser, 
of  course,  refused  to  pay  the  bill,  denying  ever  having  had 
"the  goods."  But  the  countryman  called,  in  propria  per 
sona,  refreshed  his  memory,  and  added,  that,  if  the  bill 
was  not  footed  on  sight,  he  should  prosecute  him  for 
stealing!  This  made  the  old  miser  shake  in  his  boots.  He 
blustered  for  awhile ;  then  reasoned  the  case ;  then  plead 
poverty.  But  the  purveyor  in  vegetables  was  not  the  man 
to  be  cabbaged  in  that  way,  and  the  old  miser  called  him 
into  his  sitting-room,  and  ordered  his  son,  a  wild  young 
scamp,  to  go  up  stairs  and  see  if  he  could  find  five  dollars 
in  any  of  the  drawers  or  boxes  up  there.  The  young  man 
finally  called  out — 

"Dad,  which  bag  shall  I  take  it  out  of,  the  gold  or 
silver?" 

"  Odd  zounds  !"  bawled  the  old  man — "  the  boy  wants  to 
let  on  I've  got  bags  of  gold  and  silver  1" 

And  so  he  had,  many  thousands  of  dollars  in  good  gold 
and  silver ;  he  hobbled  up  stairs,  got  nine  half  dollars,  and 
tried  to  get  off  fifty  cents  less  than  the  countryman's  bill ; 


132  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

but  the  countryman  was  stubborn  as  a  mule,  and  would  not 
abate  a  farthing — so  the  old  rniser  had  to  hobble  up  stairs 
and  fetch  down  his  fifty  cents  more,  and  the  whole  operation 
was  like  squeezing  bear's  grease  from  a  pig's  tail,  or  jerk 
ing  out  eye-teeth. 

The  miser  never  waylaid  the  market-men  again ;  and  not 
long  after  this,  he  got  a  spurious  dollar  put  upon  him  in 
one  of  his  "  exchanging"  operations,  and  that  wound  up  his 
penny  shaving. 

Time  passed — Death  called  upon  the  wretched  man  of 
ingots  and  money  bags, — but  while  power  remained  to 
forbid  it,  the  old  miser  refused  to  have  a  physician.  When, 
to  all  appearance,  his  senses  were  gone,  his  friends  drew 
the  miser's  pantaloons  from  under  his  pillow,  where  he  had 
always  insisted  on  their  remaining  during  his  sleeping  hours, 
and  his  last  illness — but  as  one  of  the  attendants  slowly  re 
moved  the  garment,  the  poor  old  man,  with  a  convulsive 
effort — a  galvanic-like  grab — threw  out  his  bony,  cold  hand, 
and  seized  his  old  pantaloons  ! 

The  miser  clutched  them  with  a  dying  grasp ;  words 
struggled  in  his  throat ;  he  could  not  utter  them ;  his  jaw- 
fell — he  was  dead  ! 

Much  curiosity  was  manifested  by  the  friends  and  rela 
tives  to  know  what  could  have  caused  the  poor  old  man  to 
cling  to  his  time-worn  pantaloons;  but  the  mystery  was 
soon  revealed — for  upon  examination  of  the  linings  of  the 
waistbands  and  watch-fob,  over  $30,000  in  bank  notes  were 
there  concealed ! 

The  Lord's  pardon  and  human  sympathy  be  with  all  such 
misguided  and  wretched  slaves  of — money,  say  we. 


I  USED  to  like  dogs— a  puppy  love  that  I  got  bravely 
over,  since  once  upon  a  time,  when  a  Dutch  bottler,  in 
the  city  of  Charleston,  S.  C.,  put  an  end  to  ray  poor  Sue, 
• — the  prettiest  and  most  devoted  female  bull  terrier  speci 
men  of  the  canine  race  you  ever  did  see,  I  guess.  My  Sue 
got  into  the  wrong  pew,  one  morning;  the  crout-eating 
cordwainer  and  she  had  a  dispute — he,  the  bullet-headed 
ball  of  wax,  ups  with  his  revolver,  and — I  was  dogiessl 
I  don't  think  dogs  a  very  profitable  investment,  and  every 
man  weak  enough  to  keep  a  dog  in  a  city,  ought  to  pay 
for  the  luxury  handsomely — to  the  city  authorities.  Some 
people  have  a  great  weakness  for  dogs.  Some  fancy  gen 
tlemen  seem  to  think  it  the  very  apex  of  highcockalorumdom 
to  have  the  skeleton  of  a  greyhound  and  highly  pol 
ished  collar — following  them  through  crowded  thorough 
fares.  Some  young  ladies,  especially  those  of  doubtful 
ages,  delight  in  caressing  lumps  of  white,  cotton-looking 
dumpy  dogs  and  toting  them  around,  to  the  disgust  of 
the  lookers-on — with  all  the  fondness  and  blind  infatuation 
of  a  mamma  with  her  first  born,  bran  new  baby.  Wherever 
you  see  any  quantity  of  white  and  black  loafers — Philadel 
phia,  for  instance,  you'll  see  rafts  of  ugly  and  wretched 
looking  curs.  Boz  says  poverty  and  oysters  have  a  great 
affinity  ;  in  this  country,  for  oysters  read  dogs.  Who  has 
not,  that  ever  travelled  over  this  remarkable  country,  had 
occasion  to  be  down  on  clogs  ?  Who  that  has  ever  lain 
awake,  for  hours  at  a  stretch,  listening  to  a  blasted  cur,  not 
worth  to  any  body  the  powder  that  would  blow  him  up — 
but  has  felt  a  desire  to  advocate  the  dog-law,  so  judiciously 

(133) 


134  tfUMORLS    OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 

practised  in  all  well-regulated  cities  ?  Who  that  ever  had 
a  sneaking  villanons  cur  slip  up  behind  and  nip  out  a  patch  of 
your  trowsers,  boot  top  and  calf— the  size  of  an  oyster, 
but  has  felt  for  the  pistol,  knife  or  club,  and  sworn  eternal 
enmity  to  the  whole  canine  race?  Who  that  ever  had  a 
big  dog  jump  upon  your  Russia-ducks  and  patent  leathers 
— just  as  he  had  come  out  of  a  mud-puddle,  but  has  nearly 
forfeited  his  title  to  Christianity,  by  cursing  aloud  in  his 
grief— like  a  trooper  ?  Well,  I  have,  for  one  of  a 
thousand. 

The  fact  of  the  business  is,  with  precious  few  exceptions, 
dogs  are  a  nuisance,  whatever  Col.  Bill  Porter  of  the 
"Spirit,"  and  his  thousand  and  one  dog-fancying  and  in 
quiring  friends,  may  think  to  the  contrary;  and  the  man 
that  will  invest  fifty  real  dollars  in  a  dog-skin,  has  got  a 
tender  place  in  his  head,  not  healed  up  as  it  ought  to  be. 

While  "  putting  up,"  t'other  day,  at  the  Irving  House, 
New  York,  I  heard  a  good  dog  story  that  will  bear  repeating, 
I  think.  A  sporting  gent  from  the  country,  stopping  at 
the  Irving,  wanted  a  dog,  a  good  dog,  not  particular 
whether  it  was  a  spaniel,  hound,  pointer,  English  terrier 
or  Butcher's  bull.  So  a  friend  advised  him  to  put  an  ad 
vertisement  in  the  Sun  and  Spirit  of  the  Times,  which  he 
did,  requesting  the  "fancy"  to  bring  along  the  right  sort 
of  dog  to  the  Irving  House,  room  number  — . 

The  advertisement  appeared  simultaneously  in  the  two 
papers  on  Saturday.  There  were  but  few  calls  that  day; 
but  on  Monday,  the  "Spirit"  having  been  freely  imbibed 
by  its  numerous  readers  over  Sunday,  the  dog  men  were 
awake,  and  then  began  the  scene.  The  occupant  of  room 
number  —  had  scarcely  got  up,  before  a  servant  appeared 
with  a  man  and  a  dof 

O 

"Believe,  sir,  you  advertised  for  a  dog.?"  quoth  he  with 
the  animal. 

"Yes,"  was  the  response  of  the  country  fancy  man,  who, 


DOG   DAY.  135 

by  the  way,  it  must  be  premised,  was  rather  green  as  to 
the  quality  and  prices  of  fancy  dogs. 

"What  kind  of  a  dog  do  you  call  that?"  he  added. 

"A  greyhound,  full  blooded,  sir." 

"Full  blooded?"  says  the  country  sportsman.  "Well, 
he  don't  look  as  though  he  had  much  blood  in  him.  He'd 
look  better,  wouldn't  he,  mister,  if  he  was  full  bellied — 
looks  as  hollow  as  a  flute !" 

This  remark,  for  a  moment,  rather  staggered  the  dog 
man,  who  first  looked  at  his  dog  and  then  at  the  critic. 
Choking  down  his  dander,  or  disgust,  says  he : 

"  That's  the  best  greyhound  you  ever  saw,  sir." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  ask  for  him  ?" 

"Seventy-five  dollars." 

"  What  ?     Seventy-five  dollars  for  that  dog  frame  ?" 

"  I  guess  you're  a  fool  any  way,"  says  the  dog  man : 
"you  don't  know  a  hound  from  a  tan  yard  cur,  you  jackass  ! 
Phe-e-wt !  come  along,  Jerry  !"  and  the  man  and  dog  dis 
appeared. 

The  man  with  the  hollow  dog  had  not  stepped  out  two 
minutes,  before  the  servant  appeared  with  two  more  dog 
merchants ;  both  had  their  specimens  along,  and  were  in 
vited  to  "step  in." 

"Ah!  that's  a  dog!"  ejaculated  the  country  sportsman, 
the  moment  his  eyes  lit  upon  the  massive  proportions  of  a 
thundering  edition  of  Mt.  St.  Bernard. 

"  That  is  a  dog,  sir,"  was  the  emphatic  response  of  the 
dog  merchant. 

"How  much  do  you  ask  for  that  dog?"  quoth  the  sports 
man. 

"Well,"  says  the  trader,  patting  his  dog,  "  I  thought 
of  getting  about  fifty-five  dollars  for  him,  but  I — " 

"  Stop,"  interrupted  the  country  sportsman,  "  that's 
enough — he  won't  suit,  no  how  ;  I  can't  go  them  figures 


136  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

on  dogs."  The  man  and  dog  left  growling,  and  the  next 
man  and  dog  were  brought  up. 

"Why,  that's  a  queer  dog,  mister,  ain't  it?  'Tain't  got 
no  hair  on  it ;  why,  where  in  blazes  did  you  raise  such  a 
dog  as  that ;  been  scalded,  hain't  it  ?"  says  the  rural  sports 
man,  examining  the  critter. 

"  Scalded  ?"  echoed  the  clog  man,  looking  no  ways  amia 
ble  at  the  speaker,  ''why  didn't  you  never  see  a  Chinese 
terrier,  afore  ?" 

"  No,  and  if  that's  one,  I  don't  care  about  seeing  an 
other.  Why,  he  looks  like  a  singed  possum  ?" 

"AVell,  you're  a  pooty  looking  country  Jake,  you  are,  to 
advertise  for  a  dog,  and  don't  know  Chiney  terrier  from  a 
singed  possum  ?" 

Another  rap  at  the  door  announced  more  dogs,  and  as 
the  man  opened  it  to  get  out  with  his  singed  possum,  a 
genus  who  evidently  "killed  for  Keyser,"  rushed  in  with  a 
pair  of  the  ugliest-looking — savage — snub-nosed,  slaughter 
house  pups,  "the  fancy"  might  ever  hope  to  look  upon! 
As  these  meat-axish  canines  made  a  rush  at  the  very  boot 
tops  of  the  country  sportsman,  he  "shied  off,"  pretty  per 
ceptibly. 

"Are  you  de  man  advertised  for  de  dogs,  sa-a-ay  ?  You 
needn't  be  afraid  o'  dem  ;  come  a'here,  lay  da-own,  Baity — 
day's  de  dogs,  mister,  vot  yon  read  of!" 

"  Ain't  they  rather  fierce  ?"  asked  the  rural  sportsman, 
eyeing  the  ugly  brutes. 

"  Fierce  ?  Better  believe  dey  are — show  'em  a  f-f-ight, 
if  you  want  to  see  'em  go  in  for  de  chances  !  You  want 
to  see  der  teeth  ?" 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  timidly  responded  the  sportsman  ; 
"they  are  not  exactly  what  I  want,"  he  continued. 

"What,"  says  Jakcy,  "don't  want  'em?  Why,  look 
ji'here,  you  don't  go  for  to  say  dat  you  'spect  I'm  agoin' 
for  to  fetch  d-dogs  clean  down  here,  for  nuthin',  do  you, 


DOG   DAY.  1ST 

sa-a-ay  ?     Cos  if  you  do,  I'll  jis  drop  off  my  duds  and  lam 
ye  out  o'  yer  boots  !" 

Jakey  was  just  beginning  to  square,  when  his  belligerent 
propositions  were  suddenly  nipped  in  the  bud,  by  the  ser 
vant  opening  the  door  and  ushering  in  more  dogs  ;  and  no 
sooner  did  Jakey's  pups  see  the  new-comers,  than  they 
went  in  ;  a  fight  ensued — both  of  Jakey's  pups  lighting 
down  on  an  able-bodied,  big-bone  sorrel  dog,  who  appeared 
perfectly  happy  in  the  transaction,  and  having  a  tremen 
dous  jaw  of  his  own,  made  the  bones  of  the  pups  crack 
with  the  high  pressure  he  gave  them.  Of  course  a  dog 
fight  is  the  cue  for  a  man  fight,  and  in  the  wag  of  a  dead 
lamb's  tail,  Jakey  and  the  proprietor  of  the  sorrel  dog  had 
a  dispute.  Jakey  was  attitudinizing  a  la  "  the  fancy,"  when 
the  sorrel  dog  man — who,  like  his  dog,  was  got  up  on  a 
liberal  scale  of  strength  and  proportions — walked  right 
into  Jakey's  calculations,  and  whirled  him  in  double  flip- 
flaps  on  to  the  wash-stand  of  the  rural  sportsman's  room ! 
Our  sporting  friend  viewed  the  various  combatants  more  in 
bodily  fear  than  otherwise,  and  was  making  a  break  for  the 
door,  to  clear  himself,  when,  to  his  horror  and  amazement, 
he  found  the  entry  beset  by  sundry  men  and  boys,  and  any 
quantity  of  dogs — dogs  of  every  hue,  size,  and  description. 
At  that  moment  the  chawed-up  pups  of  Jakey,  and  their 
equally  used-up  master,  came  a  rushing  down  stairs — an 
other  fight  ensued  on  the  stairs  between  Jakey's  dogs  and 
some  others,  and  then  a  stampede  of  dogs — mixing  up  of 
dogs — tangling  of  ropes  and  straps — cursing  and  hurraing, 
and  such  a  time  generally,  as  is  far  better  imagined  than 
described.  The  boarders  hearing  such  a  wild  outcry — to 
say  nothing  of  the  yelps  of  dogs,  came  out  of  their  various 
rooms,  and  retired  as  quickly,  to  escape  the  stray  and  con 
fused  dogs,  that  now  were  ki-yi-ing,  yelping,  and  pitching 
all  over  the  house  I  By  judicious  marshalling  of  the  ser 
vants — broom-sticks,  rolling-pins  and  canes,  the  dogs  and 


138 


HUMORS    OF   FALCONBIUDGE. 


their  various  proprietors  were  ejected,  and  order  once 
more  restored  ;  the  country  sportsman  seized  his  valise, 
paid  his  bills  and  "  varnosed  the  ranche,"  and  ever  after  it 
was  incorporated  in  the  rules  of  the  Irving,  that  gentlemen 
are  strictly  prohibited  from  dealing  in  dogs  while  "putting 
up"  in  that  house. 


"  I  DON'T  see  what  in  sin's  become  of  them  dahlias  I  set 
out  this  Spring,"  said  Tapehorn,  a  retired  slop-shop  mer 
chant,  to  his  wife,  one  morning  a  month  ago,  as  he  hunted 
in  vain  among  the  weeds  and  grass  of  his  garden,  to  see 
where  or  when  his  two-dollars-a-piece  dahlia  roots  were 
going  to  appear. 

"  Can't  think  what's  the  matter  with  'em,"  he  continued. 
"  Goldblossom  said  they  were  the  finest  roots  he  ever  sold 
• — ought  to  be  up  and  in  bloom — two  months  ago." 

"  Oh,  pa,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  said  Miss  Tapehorn, 
"that  our  Patrick,  one  morning  last  Spring,  was  digging  in 
the  garden  there,  and  he  turned  up  some  things  that  looked 
just  like  sweet  potatoes;  mother  and  I  looked  at  them,  and 
thought  they  were  potatoes  those  Mackintoshes  had  left 
undug  when  they  moved  away  last  winter  1" 

"  Well,  you-a— "  gasped  Tapehorn. 

"  Well,  pa,  ma  and  I  had  them  all  dug  up  and  cooked, 
and  they  were  the  meanest  tasting  things  we  ever  knew,  and 
we  gave  them  all  to  the  pigs  !" 

Tapehorn  looked  like  a  man  in  the  last  stages  of  disgust, 
and  jamming  his  fists  down  into  his  pockets,  he  walked  into 
the  house,  muttering  : 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut !— thirty-two  dollars  and  the  finest  lot  of 
dahlias  in  the  world — gone  to  the  pigs!" 


$ 

t  Cfoo  |ojns  at  %  Crtnumi. 

IT  is  somewhat  curious  that  more  embarrassments,  and 
queer  conlre  temps  do  not  take  place  in  the  routine  of 
human  affairs,  when  we  find  so  many  persons  floating  about 
of  one  and  the  same  name.  It  must  be  shocking  to  be 
named  John  Brown,  troublesome  to  be  called  John  Thomp 
son,  but  who  can  begin  to  conceive  the  horrors  of  that 
man's  situation,  who  has  at  the  baptismal  font  received  the 
title  of  John  Smith  ? 

Now  it  only  wants  a  slight  accident,  the  most  trivial  oc 
currence  of  fate — the  meeting  of  two  or  three  persons  of 
the  same  name,  or  of  great  similarity  of  name,  to  create  the 
most  singular  and  even  ludicrous  circumstances  and  ta 
bleaux.  One  of  these  affairs  came  off  at  the  Tremont 
House,  some  time  since.  One  Thomas  Johns,  a  blue-nose 
Nova-Scotian — a  man  of  "some  pumpkins"  and  "persim 
mons"  at  home,  doubtless,  put  up  for  a  few  days  at  the 
Tremont,  and  about  the  same  time  one  John  Thomas,  a 
genuine  son  of  John  Bull,  just  over  in  one  of  the  steamers, 
took  up  his  quarters  at  the  same  respectable  and  worthy 
establishment. 

Thomas  Johns  was  a  linen  draper,  sold  silks,  satinets, 
linen,  and  dimities,  at  his  establishment  in  the  Provinces, 
and  was  also  a  politician,  and  "  went  on"  for  the  part  of 
magistrate,  occasionally.  John  Thomas  was  a  retired  wine- 
merchant,  and,  having  netted  a  bulky  fortune,  he  took  it 
into  his  head  to  travel,  and  as  naturally  as  he  despised,  and 
as  contemptuously  as  he  looked  upon  this  poor,  wild,  unso 
phisticated  country  of  ours,  he  nevertheless  condescended 
to  come  and  look  at  us. 

(139) 


140  HUMORS   OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 

Well,  there  they  were,  Thomas  Johns,  and  John  Thomas ; 
one  was  "roomed"  in  the  north  wing,  the  other  in  the 
south  wing.  Thomas  Johns  ^ent  out  and  began  recon- 
noitering  among  the  Yankee  shop-keepers.  John  Thomas, 
having  a  fortnight's  pair  of  sea  legs  on,  and  full  of  bile  and 
beer,  laid  up  at  his  lodgings,  and  passed  the  first  three 
days  in  "hazing  around"  the  servants,  and  blaspheming 
American  manners  and  customs. 

Old  John  was  quietly  snoring  off  his  bottle  after  a  sump 
tuous  Tremont  dinner,  when  a  repeated  rap,  rap,  rap  at  his 
door  aroused  him. 

"  What  are  you— at  ?"  growls  John. 

"  It's  ma,  zur  ?»  says  one  of  the  Milesian  servants. 

"  Blast  yer  hies,  what  want  yer  ?"  again  growls  John. 

"If  ye  plaze,  zur,  there's  a  young  man  below  wishes  to 
see  you,"  says  the  servant. 

"  Ha,  tell  'itn  to  clear  out !"  John  having  predestinated 
the  "  young  man,"  he  gave  an  apoplectic  snort,  relapsed 
into  his  lethargy,  and  the  servant  whirled  down  into  the 
rotunda,  and  informed  the  "young  man"  what  the  gentle 
man  desired. 

"  He  did,  eh  ?"  says  the  young  man,  who  looked  as  if  he 
might  be  a  clerk  in  an  importing  house.  The  young  man 
left,  in  something  of  a  high  dudgeon. 

"  What'r  yer  at  now  ?"  roared  John  Thomas,  a  second 
time,  roused  by  the  servant's  rat-tat-too. 

"It's  a  gentleman  wants  to  see  yez's,  zur." 

"Tell  him  to  go  to  the  d— !"  and  John  snored  again. 

"  Is  John  in  ?"  asks  the  gentleman,  as  the  servant  re 
turns. 

"  Mister  Thomas  did  yez  mane,  zur  ?" 

"No,  yes,  it  is  (looking  at  his  tablets)  same  thing,  I  sup 
pose  ;  Thomas  Johns,"  says  the  gentleman. 

"I  belave  it's  right,  zur,"  says  the  servant, 

"  Well,  what  did  he  say  ?" 


THE    TWO    JOHNS    AT   THE   TREMONT.  141 

"  Faith,  I  think  he's  not  in  a  good  humor,  betwane  us, 
zur  ;  he  says  yez  may  go  to  the  divil !" 

"  Did  he  ?  Well,  that's  polite,  any  how — invite  a  gen 
tleman  to  dine  with  him,  and  then  meet  him  with  such  lan 
guage  as  that.  The  infernal  'blue  nose,'  I'll  pull  it,  I'll 
tweak  it  until  he'll  roar  like  a  calf!"  and  off  went  "the 
gentleman,"  hot  as  No.  6. 

"  I  belave  he's  not  in,  zur,"  says  the  same  servant,  an 
swering  another  inquiry  for  John  Thomas,  or  Thomas 
Johns,  the  carriage  driver  was  not  certain  which. 

"  Oh,  ho  !"  says  the  servant,  "  it's  a  ride  ould  John's  go 
ing  fur  to  take  till  himself,  and  didn't  want  any  callers." 
Reaching  John's  door,  he  began  his  tattoo. 

"Be  hang'd  to  ye,  what'r  ye  at  now?"  growls  John, 
partly  up  and  dressed. 

"  The  carriage  is  here,  zur." 

"  What  carriage  is  that  ?"  growls  John,  continuing  his 
toilet. 

"  I  don't  know,  zur  ;  I'll  go  down  and  sae  the  number,  if 
ye  plaze." 

"  Thunder  and  tommy!  What  do  I  care  for  the  number  ? 
Go  tell  the  carriage " 

"  To  go  to  the  divil,  zur  ?"  says  the  servant,  in  anticipa 
tion  of  the  command. 

"  No,  you  bog-trotter,  go  tell  the  carriage  to  wait." 

The  servant  went  down,  and  John  continued  his  toilet, 
muttering — 

"  Ah,  some  of  their  ^accommodations,  I  expect ;  these 
American  landlords,  as  they  style  'em  in  these  infernal  wild 
woods  'ere,  do  manage  to  give  a  body  tolerable  sort  of  hac- 
commodations ;  ha,  but  they'll  take  care  to  look  hout  for 
the  dollars.  I  don't  know,  tho',  these  fellers  'ere  appear  to 
lerably  clever ;  want  me  to  ride  hout,  I  suppose,  and  see  some 
of  their  Yankee  lions.  Haw  1  haw  1  Lions  !  I  wonder  what 


142  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

they'd  say  liif  they  saw  Lun'un,  and  looked  at  St.  Paul's 
once  I" 

Getting  through  his  toilet — and  it  takes  an  Englishman 
as  long  to  fix  his  stiff  cravat  and  that  stiffer  and  stauncher 
shirt-collar,  and  rub  his  hat,  than  a  Frenchman  to  rig  out 
tout  ensemble,  to  say  nothing  of  the  gallons  of  water  and 
dozens  of  towels  he  uses  up  in  the  operation— John  found 
the  carriage  waiting;  he  asked  no  questions,  but  jumped  in. 

"Isn't  there  some  others  beside  yourself  going  out,  sir  ?" 
says  the  driver,  supposing  he  had  the  right  man,  or  one  of 
them. 

"  No  ;  drive  off — where  are  you  going  to  drive  me  ?" 

"  Mount  Auburn,  sir,  the  carriage  was  ordered  for." 

"Humph  !  Some  of  the  battle-grounds,  I  suppose,"  John 
grunts  to  himself,  falls  into  a  fit  of  English  doggedness,  and 
the  coach  drives  off. 

Thomas  Johns  made  little  or  no  noise  or  confusion  in  the 
house,  consequently  he  was  not  known  to  the  servants,  and 
very  little  known  to  the  clerks.  John  Thomas  was  another 
person — he  was  all  fuss  and  feathers.  He  kept  his  bell 
ringing,  and  the  servants  rushing  for  towels  and  water, 
water  and  towels,  boots  and  beer,  beer  and  boots,  the  Eng 
lish  papers,  maps  of  America,  &c.,  without  cessation.  He 
was  John  Thomas  and  Thomas  Johns,  one  and  indivisible. 

John  got  his  ride,  and  returned  to  the  hotel  sulkier  than 
ever ;  and  by  the  time  he  got  unrobed  of  his  pea-jackets 
and  huge  shawls  abont  his  burly  neck,  he  was  telegraphed 
by  a  servant  to  come  down  ;  there  was  a  gentleman  below 
on  business  with  him.  John  foreswore  business,  but  the 
gentleman  must  see  him,  and  up  he  came  for  that  purpose. 
His  unmistakable  mug  told  he  was  "  an  officer." 

"I've  a  bill  against  you,  sir,  $3G8,20.  Must  be  paid  im 
mediately  !"  said  the  presenter,  peremptorily. 

John  was  thunderstruck. 


THE   TWO    JOHNS   AT   THE    TREMONT.  143 

"  Me,  and  be  hanged  to  ye !"  says  John,  getting  his 
breath. 

"  Yes,  sir,  for  goods  packed  at  Smith  &  Brown's,  for 
Nova  Scotia.  The  bill  was  to  be  paid  this  morning,  as 
you  agreed,  but  you  told  the  clerk  to  go  to  the  d — 1 !  Won't 
do,  that  sort  of  work,  here.  Pay  the  bill,  or  you  must  go 
with  me  !" 

John,  when  he  found  himself  in  custody,  swore  it  was 
some  infernal  Yankee  scheme  to  gouge  him,  and  he  started 
for  the  clerk's  office,  below,  to  have  some  explanation.  As 
John  and  the  officer  reached  the  rotunda,  a  gentleman  steps 
up  behind  John,  and  gives  his  nose  a  first-rate  lug.  They 
clinched,  the  bystanders  and  servants  interposed,  and  John 
and  his  assailant  were  parted,  and  by  this  time  the  nose 
puller  discovered  he  had  the  wrong  man  by  the  nose  ! 

"  Is  your  name  Thomas  Johns  ?"  says  the  nose  puller. 

"  Blast  you,  no  !" 

"  Who  pays  this  bill  for  the  carriage,  if  your  name  ain't 
Johns  ?"  says  a  man  with  a  bill  for  the  carriage  hire. 

"I  allers  heard  as  ow  you  Yan-gees  were  inquisitive, 
and  sharp  after  the  dollars,  and  I'm  'anged  if  you  ain't  awful. 
My  name's  John  Thomas,  from  Lun'un,  bound  back  again 
in  the  next  steamer.  Now  who's  got  any  thing  against 
me  ?» 

Thomas  Johns  came  in  at  this  climax,  an  explanation 
ensued,  John  was  relieved  of  his  embarrassment,  and  all 
were  finally  satisfied,  except  John  Thomas,  who,  venting  a 
few  bottles  of  his  spleen  on  every  body  and  all  things — Ame 
ricans  especially — took  to  his  bed  and  beer,  and  snorted  for 
a  week. 


tt  n  a 


WELL,  squire,  as  I  wer'  tellin'  on  ye,  when  I  went 
around  pedlin'  notions,  I  met  many  queer  folks  j 
some  on  'em  so  darn'd  preoud  and  sassy,  they  wouldn't  let 
a  feller  look  at  'em  ;  a-n-d  'd  shut  their  doors  and  gates, 
bang  into  a  feller's  face,  jest  as  ef  a  Yankee  pedler  was  a 
pizen  sarpint  !  Then  there  waa-s  t'other  kind  o'  human 
critters,  so  pesky  poor,  or  'nation  stingy,  they'd  pinch  a 
fourpence  till  it  'd  squeal  like  a  stuck  pig,  Ye-e-s,  I  do 
swow,  I've  met  some  critters  so  dog-ratted  mean,  that  ef 
you  had  sot  a  steel  trap  onder  their  beds,  a-n-d  baited  it 
with  three  cents,  yeou'd  a  cotch  ther  con-feoun-ded  souls 
afore  mornin'  !" 

"  Massy  sakes  !"  responded  the  squire. 

"Fact!  by  ginger!"  echoed  the  ex-pedler. 

"Well,  go  on,  Ab,"  said  the  squire,  giving  his  pipe 
another  '  charge,'  and  lighting  up  for  the  yarn  Absalom 
Slamm  had  promised  the  gals,  soon  as  the  quilt  was  out 
and  refreshments  were  handed  around. 

"  Go  on,  Ab  —  let's  hear  abeout  that  scrape  yeou  had  with 
the  school  marm  and  her  gals." 

"  Wall,  I  will,  squire  ;  gals,  spread  yeourselves  areound 
and  squat;  take  care  o'  yeour  corset  strings,  and  keep 
deth-ly  still.  Wall  ;  neow,  yeou  all  sot  ?  Hain't  none  o' 
ye  been  in  the  pedlin'  business,  I  guess  ;  wall,  no  matter, 
tho'  it's  dread-ful  pleasant  sometimes  :  then  again  at 
others,  'taint." 

"  Go  on,  Ab,  go  on,"  said  the  squire. 

"  Ye-e-s  ;  wall,  as  I  was  saying,  'beout  tradin',  none  o' 
yeou  ever  been  in  the  tradin'  way  ?  Wall,  it  deon't  matter 
(144) 


THE  YANKEE  IN  A  BOARDING  SCHOOL.     145 

a  cent ;  as  I  was  agoin'  to  say,  I  had  hard,  hard  luck  one 
Reason — got  clean  busted  all  tew  smash !  O-o-o  !  it  was 
dre-a-a-dful  times ;  jest  abeout  the  time  Gineral  Jackson 
clapped  his  ice-toe  on  the  hull  o'  the  banks,  kersock.  Wall, 
yeou  see,  I  got  broke  all  tew  flinders.  My  ole  hoss  died, 
the  sun  and  rain  beat  up  my  wagon,  I  sold  eout  my 
notions  tew  a  feller  that  paid  me  all  in  ceounter-fit  money, 
and  then  he  dug  eout,  as  Parson  Dodge  says,  to  undis- 
kivered  kedn'try. 

"  There  was  only  one  way  abeout  it ;  I  was  beound  to 
dew  something  instead  o'  goin'  to  set  deown  and  blubber; 
and  as  I  layed  stretched  eout  in  bed  one  Sunday  morning, 
in  Marm  Smith's  tavern,  in  the  cockloft  among  the  old 
stuff,  I  spies  a  darii'd  ole  consarn  that  took  my  fancy  im- 
mazin' !  As  Deb  Brown  said,  when  she  'sperienced  rele-gen, 
I  felt  my  sperrets  raisin'  me  clean  eout  o'  bed,  and  eout  I 
beounced,  like  a  pea  in  a  hot  skillet.  Deown  I  goes  to 
Marrn  Smith ;  the  ole  lady  was  dressed  up  to  death  in  her 
Sunday-go-to-meetin's,  and  jest  as  preoud  and  sassy  as  her 
darn'd  ole  skin  ceould  heould  in. 

"  '  Marm  Smith,'  sez  I,  '  yeou  hain't  got  no  ole  stuff  yeou 
deon't  want  tew  sell  nor  nuthin',  dew  ye  ?' 

"  '  Ab  Slamm,1  sez  she,  plan  tin'  her  thumbs  on  her  hip 
joints,  and  as  the  milishey  officer  ses  on  trainin'  day,  comin' 
at  me,  'right  face,'  she  spread  herself  like  a  clapboard. 
1  Ab  Slamm,'  sez  she,  '  what  on  airth  possesses  yeou  to  talk 
o'  tradin'  on  the  Sabbath  ?' 

"'Wall,'  sez  I,  'Marm  Smith,  yeou  needn't  take  on  so 
'beout  it ;  I  guess  a  feller  kin  ax  a  question  witheout  tradin' 
or  breakin'  the  Sabbath  all  tew  smash,  either !  Keow,' 
says  I,  '  yeou  got  some  ole  plunder  up  ther  in  the  cockloft, 
where  yeou  stuck  me  to  sleep ;  'tain't  much  use  to  yeou,  and 
one  article  I  see  I  want  to  trade  fur.' 

"Wall,  we  didn't  trade  'zactly.  Marm  Smith,  yeou  see, 
got  dre-e-e-adful  relejus  'beout  that  time — wouldn't  let  her 
9 


146  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

gals  draw  ther  breth  scaeely,  and  shot  her  roosters  all  up 
in  the  cellar  every  Sunday.  Pact,  by  ginger  !  Wall,  yeou 
see,  Mann  Smith  were  agin  tradin'  on  Sunday,  but  she  sed 
I  might  arrange  it  with  Ben,  her  barkeeper,  and  so  I  got 
the  instrument,  any  heow." 

"What  was  it,  Ab  ?"  inquired  the  squire. 

"Massy  sakes,  tell  us !"  says  the  gals. 

"I  sha'n't  dew  it,  till  I  tell  the  hull  abeout  it,"  Ab  re 
plied,  rather  choosing,  like  Captain  Cuttle,  to  break  the 
gist  of  his  information  into  small  chunks,  and  so  make  it 
the  more  telling  and  comparatively  interesting. 

"When  I  got  the  instrument,  and  paid  Marm  Smith  ray 
board  bill,  I  wer  in  possession  of  a  cash  capital  of  jest  three 
fo'pences.  I  took  my  jack-knife,  and  unjinted  the  instru 
ment,  cleaned  it  off,  then  wrapped  the  different  sections  up 
in  a  paper,  put  the  hull  in  my  little  yaller  trunk,  and  dug 
eout.  When  I  got  clean  eout  o'  sight  and  hearin'  of  every 
body  I'd  ever  hear'n  tell  on,  I  stopped  r-i-g-h-t  in  my  track. 
My  cash  capital  wer  gone,  my  mortal  remains  were  holler  as 
a  flute,  and  my  old  trunk  had  worn  a  hole  clean  through 
the  shoulder  o'  my  best  Sunday  coat.  I  put  up,  and  sez  I 
tew  the  landlord  : 

"  '  Squire,  what  sort  o'  place  is  this  for  a  sheow  ?' 

"  '  For  a  sh-e-ow  ?'  sez  he. 

"'Ye-e-e-s,'  sez  I. 

"  '  What  a'  yeou  got  to  sh-e-o-w  ?'  sez  he. 

"  'The  most  wonderful  instrument  ever  inwent-'d,'  sez  I. 

"  '  What's  't  fur  ?'  sez  he. 

" '  For  the  wimen,'  sez  I. 

"'Ol'sez  he,  lookin'  alfired  peart  and  sraeart,  as  tlio' 
he'd  seen  a  flock  o'  1'fants  ;  '  quack  doctor,  I  s'pose,  eh  ?' 

"'No,  I  ben't  a  quack  doctor,  nuther,'  sez  I,  priming 
up  at  the  irisin-i-wa-tion. 

" .'  Wall,  what  on  airth  hev  yeou  got,  any  heoiv  P  sez  he. 

"  When  he  'poligized  in  that  sort  o'  way,  in  course  I  up 


THE   YANKEE   IN   A   BOARDING   SCHOOL.  147 

and  told  him  the  full  perticklers  'beout  a  wonderful  instru 
ment  I  had  for  the  ladies  and  wimen  folks.  A-n-d  heow  I 
wanted  to  sheow  it  before  some  o'  the  female  sim-i-nar-ries, 
and  give  a  lectoor  on't. 

"  'By  bunker !'  sez  he,  'then  yeou've  cum  jest  teou  the 
spot;  three  miles  up  the  road  is  the  great  Jargon  Institoot, 
'spressly  for  young  ladies,  wher  they  teach  'em  the  'reth- 
metic,  French  scollopin',  and  High-tall-ion  curlycues ; 
dancin',  tight-lacing  hair-dressin',  and  so  forth,  with  the 
use  of  curlin'  irons,  forty  pinanners,  and  parfumeries 
chuck'd  in.' 

"  '  Yeou  deon't  say  so  ?'  sez  I. 

"'Yes,  I  doos,' sez  he;  and  then  yeou  had  orter  seen 
me  make  streaks  fur  the  Jargon  Institoot. 

"I  feound  the  place,  knocked  on  the  door,  and  a  feller 
all  starch'd  up,  lookin'  cruel  nice,  kem  and  opened  the 
door.  I  axed  if  the  marm  were  in.  Then  he  wanted  tew 
kneow  which  of  'em  I  wanted  tew  see.  '  The  head  marm 
of  the  Institoot,'  sez  I.  'Please  to  give  me  yeour  keard,' 
sez  he.  '  You  be  darn'd,'  sez  I ;  '  I'd  have  yeou  know, 
mister,'  sez  I,  'I  don't  deal  in  Jceards — never  did,  nuther !' 

"  The  feller  show'd  a  heap  o'  ivory,  and  brought  deowu 
the  head  marm.  It  weould  a'  dun  Marm  Smith's  ole 
heart  good  to  seen  this  dre-e-a-d-ful  plus  critter.  She  looked 
mighty  nice,  a-n-d  she  scolloped  reourid,  and  beow'd  and 
cut  an  orful  quantity  o'  capers,  when  I  ondid  my  business 
to  her.  I  went  on  and  told  her  heow  in  course  o'  travel — 

"  '  In  furrin  pearts  ?'  sez  she. 

"'Yes,'  sez  I — 'I  kim  across  a  great  instrument,'  sez  I. 
1  It  was  well  known  to  the  wimeti  and  ladies  o'  the  past 
gin-i-rations,'  sez  I. 

"  '  The  an-shants  ?'  sez  she. 

"  'Yes,  inarm,'  sez  I.  Then  she  axed  me  wether  it  wer 
a  wind  instrer-nient  or  a  stringed  instrer-meut.  A-n-d  I 
told  her  it  wer  a  stringed  instrer-ment,  but  went  on  the 


148  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

hurdy-gurdy  pren-cipP,  with  a  crank  or  treddle.  But  what 
I  moost  dwelt  on,  as  the  ox-ion-eer  sez,  were  the  great 
combinations  of  the  instrer-ment,  a-n-d  I  piled  it  up  dre-e-e- 
adful !  I  told  the  marra  I  wanted  to  git  the  thing  patented, 
and  put  before  the  people — the  wiraen  and  ladies  in  per- 
tick'ler — so  that  every  gal  in  the  univarsal  world  could 
play  upon  it — exercise  her  hands,  strengthen  her  arms 
and  chist,  give  her  form  a  nater-al  de-welop-ment,  and 
so  make  the  hull  grist  o'  wimen  critters  useful,  as 
well  as  or-namental,  as  my  instrer-ment  was  a  useful 
necessity ;  for  while  it  lent  grace  and  beauty  to  the 
female  form,  and  gin  forth  fust  rate  music,  it  was  par-fect-ly 
scriptooral ;  it  ceould  be  made  to  clothe  the  naked  and  feed 
the  hon-gry.  My  il-o-quince  had  the  marm.  She  'greed 
to  buy  one  of  my  machines  straight  fur  use  of  her  Institoot 
— each  school-gal  to  '  put  in'  by  next  day,  when  I  wer  to 
bring  the  instrer-ment,  get  my  $40,  and  deliver  a  lectoor  on 
it.  Next  mornin',  bright  and  early,  I  wer  there ;  the  puss 
wer  made  up,  and  the  gals  nigh  abeout  bilin'  over  with 
curiosity  to  see  my  wonderful  hand-limberer,  arm- strength- 
ener,  chist-expander,  female-beautifier,  and  univarsal 
musical  machine !  When  they  all  got  assembled,  I  ondid 
the  machine ;  they  wer  still  as  death  !  When  I  sot  it  up, 
they  wer  breathless  with  wonderment ;  when  I  started  it, 
they  gin  a  giueral  screech  of  delight.  Then  I  sot  deown 
and  played  'em  old  hund'erd,  and  every  gal  in  the  room 
vowed  right  eout  she'd  have  one  made  straight!  O-o-o  ! 
yeou'd  a  died  to  seen  the  excitement  that  instrer-ment  made 
in  Jargon  Institoot.  The  head  marm  wanted  my  orter- 
graff,  and  each  o'  the  gals  a  lock  o'  my  hair.  But  just  then, 
a  confeounded  ole  woolly-headed  Yirginny  nigger  wench, 
cook  o'  the  Jargon  Institoot,  kem  in,  and  the  moment  she 
clapped  her  ole  eyes  on  my  invvention,  she  roared  reight 
eout,  '0  !  de  Lud,  ef  dar  ain't  one  de  ole  Yirginny  spinnin' 
wheels. n  I  kinder  had  bus'ness  soniewhercs  else  'beout 
that  time  !  I  took  with  a* leaving  P 


tate  of  (imitcmntt. 


A  RETROSPECTIVE  view  of  some  ten  or  fifteen  years, 
brings  up  a  wonderful  "  heap  of  notions,"  which  at  their 
birth  made  quite  a  different  sensation  from  that  which  their 
"  bare  remembrance"  would  seem  to  sanction  now.  The  state 
ment  made  in  a  "morning  paper"  before  us,  of  a  fine  horse 
being  actually  scared  stone  and  instantaneously  dead,  by  a 
roaring  and  hissing  locomotive,  brings  to  mind  "  a  circum 
stance,"  which  though  it  did  not  exactly  do  our  knitting,  it 
came  precious  near  the  climax  ! 

Some  years  ago,  upon  what  was  then  considered  the 
11  frontier"  of  Missouri,  we  chanced  to  be  laid  up  with  a 
"  game  leg,"  in  consequence  of  a  performance  of  a  bullet- 
headed  mule  that  we  were  endeavoring  to  coerce  at  the  end 
of  a  corn  stalk,  for  his  "  intervention"  in  a  fodder  stack  to 
which  he  could  lay  no  legitimate  claim.  About  two  miles 
from  our  "lodgings"  was  a  store,  a  "grocery,"  shotecary 
pop,  boots,  hats,  gridirons,  whiskey,  powder  and  shot,  &c., 
&c.,  and  the  post  office.  About  three  times  a  week,  we 
used  to  hobble  down  to  this  modern  ark,  to  read  the  news, 
see  what  was  going  on  down  in  the  world,  and  —  pass  a  few 
hours  with  the  proprietor  of  the  store,  who  chanced  to 
be  a  man  with  whom  we  had  had  a  former  acquaintance  "in 
other  climes."  Well,  one  day,  we  dropped  down  to  the 
store,  and  found  pretty  much  all  the  men  folks  —  and  they 
were  not  numerous  around  there,  the  houses  or  cabins  be 
ing  rather  scattering  —  getting  ready  to  go  down  the  river 
(Missouri)  some  ten  miles,  to  see  a  notorious  desperado 
"stretch  hemp."  My  friend  Captain  V  --  ,  the  store 
keeper,  was  about  to  go  along  too,  and  proposed  that  we 

(149) 


150.  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

should  mount  and  accompany  him,  or — stay  and  tend  store. 
We  accepted  the  latter  proposition,  as  we  were  in  no  tra 
velling  kelter,  and  had  no  taste  for  performances  on  the 
tight  rope.  Having  officiated  for  Captain  Y on  sever 
al  former  occasions,  we  had  the  run  of  his  "grocery"  and 
postal  arrangements  quite  fluent  enough  to  take  charge  of 
all  the  trade  likely  to  turn  up  that  day  ;  so  the  captain  and 
his  friends  started,  promising  a  return  before  sunset. 

One  individual,  living  some  seven  miles  up  the  road,  called 
for  his  newspaper,  and  got  his  jug  filled,  spent  a  couple  of 
hours  with  us — put  out,  and  was  succeeded  by  two  squalid 
Indians,  with  some  skins  to  trade  for  corn  juice  and  tobac 
co  ;  they  cleared  out,  and  about  two  or  three  P.  M.,  some 
movers  came  along  ;  we  had  a  little  dicker  with  them,  and 
that  closed,  up  the  business  accounts  of  the  day. 

Having  discussed  all  the  availables,  from  the  contents  of 
the  post  office — seven  newspapers  and  four  letters  per  quar 
ter  ! — to  the  crackers  and  cheese,  and  business  being  essen 
tially  stagnated,  we  ups  and  lies  down  upon  the  top  of  the 

counter,  to  take  a  nap.  Captain  V 's  store  was  a  log 

building,  about  15  by  30,  and  stood  near  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  and  at  least  half  a  mile  from  any  habitation,  except 
the  schoolhouse  and  blacksmith's  shop,  two  small  huts,  and 
at  that  time — "  in  Coventry."  Captain  Y was  a  bach 
elor  ;  he  boarded — that  is,  he  took  his  meals  at  the  nearest 
house — half  a  mile  back  from  the  wood,  and  slept  in  his 
store.  We  soon  fell  into  the  soft  soothing  arms  of  Mor 
pheus,  and — slept.  It  was  fine  mild  weather — September, 
and,  of  course,  the  door  was  wide  open.  How  long  we 
slept  we  were  not  at  all  conscious,  but  were  aroused  by  a 
heavy  hand  that  gave  us  a  hearty  shake  by  the  shoulder, 
and  in  a  rather  sepulchral  voice  says — 

"  How  arc  you  ?" 

Gods  !  we  were  up  quick,  for  our  sleep  had  been  visited 
by  dreams  of  southwest  tragedies,  hanging  scrapes,  and 


A  DREADFUL   STATE   OF   EXCITEMENT.  151 

other  nightmare  affairs,  and  as  we  opened  our  eyes  and 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  double-fisted,  cadaverous  fellow 
standing  over  us,  a  strong  inclination  to  go  off  into  a  cold 
sweat  seized  us  1  Lo  !  it  was  after  sunset  I  Almost  dark 
in  the  store,  the  stars  had  already  began  to  twinkle  in  the 
sky. 

Captain  Y did  a  considerable  trade  at  his  store,  and 

at  times  had  considerable  sums  of  money  laying  around. 
Upon  leaving  in  the  morning,  he  notified  us,  in  case  we 
should  require  change,  to  look  into  the  desk,  where  he  kept 
a  shot  bag  of  silver  coin,  and — his  pistols. 

"How  are  you  ?"  the  words  and  manner  and  looks  of  the 
man  gave  us  a  cold  chill. 

"Ho  do  you  do  ?"  we  managed  to  respond,  at  the  same 
time  sliding  down  behind  the  counter.  The  stranger  had 
a  heavy  walking  stick  in  his  hand,  and  a  knapsack  looking 
bundle  swung  to  his  shoulder.  He  looked  like  the  rough 
remnants  of  an  ill-spent  life;  had  evidently  travelled 
somewhere  where  barbers,  washer-women  and  such  like 
civilian  delicacies,  were  more  matters  of  tradition  than 
fact. 

"  Been  asleep,  eh  ?"  he  carelessly  continued. 

"  It  appears  so,"  said  we,  feeling  no  better  or  more  sat 
isfactory  in  our  mind,  and  no  reason  to,  for  night  was 
now  closing  in,  and  we  were  going  through  our  perform 
ances  by  the  slight  illumination  of  the  stars,  without  any 
positive  certainty  as  to  where  the  Captain  kept  his  tinder 
box  and  candle,  that  we  might  furnish  some  sort  of  light 
upon  the  lugubrious  state  of  affairs. 

"Do  you  keep  this  store?" 

"  No,  we  do  not,"  we  answered,  watching  the  man  as  he 
put  his  bundle  down  upon  the  counter. 

"  Who  does  ?"  was  the  next  question. 

"  The  gentleman  who  keeps  it,"  we  replied,  "is  away  to 
day." 


152  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Ah,  gone  to  see  a  poor  human  being  put  out  of  the 
world,  eh  ?» 

We  said  "yes,"  or  something  of  the  kind,  and  thought 
to  ourself,  no  doubt  you  know  all  that's  going  on  of  that 
sort  of  business  like  a  book,  and  a  host  of  other  ideas 
flashed  across  our  mind,  while  all  the  evil  deeds  of  note 
transacted  in  that  region  for  the  past  ten  years,  seemed 
awakened  in  our  mind's  eye,  working  up  our  nervous  sys 
tem,  until  the  coon  skin  cap  upon  our  excited  head  stood 
upon  about  fifteen  hairs,  with  the  strange  and  overwhelm 
ing  impression  that  our  time  had  come  !  We  would  have 
given  the  State  of  Missouri — if  it  were  in  our  possession, 

to  have  heard  Captain  Y 's  voice,  or  even  have  had  a  fair 

chance  to  dash  out  at  the  door,  and  give  the  fellow  before 
us  a  specimen  of  tall  walking — lame  as  we  were  ! 

"  Ain't  you  got  a  light  ?  I'd  think  you'd  be  a  little  timid 
(a  little  timid  !)  about  laying  around  here,  alone,  in  the  dark, 
too  ?"  said  the  fellow,  sticking  one  hand  into  his  coat 
pocket,  and  gazing  sharply  around  the  store.  Mock  heroi 
cally  says  we — 

"  Afraid  ?  Afraid  of  what  ?"  our  valor,  like  Bob  Acres', 
oozing  out  at  our  fingers. 

"These  outlaws  you've  got  around  here,"  said  he. 
"  They  say  the  man  they  hanged  to-day  was  a  decent  fel 
low  to  what  some  are,  who  prowl  around  in  this  country  1" 

We  very  modestly  said,  "  that  such  fellows  never  bo 
thered  us." 

"Do  you  sleep  in  this  store — live  here  ?" 

"No,  sir,  we  don't,"  was  our  answer. 

"  Where  do  you  lodge  and  get  your  eating  ?" 

"First  house  up  the  road." 

"  How  far  is  it  ?"  says  he. 

"  Half  a  mile  or  less." 

"  Well,  close  up  your  shop,  and  come  along  with  me !" 
says  the  fellow. 


A   DREADFUL    STATE    OP   EXCITEMENT.  153 

Now  we  were  coming  to  the  tableaux!  He  wanted  us 
to  step  outside  in  order  that  the  business  could  be  done  for 
us,  with  more  haste  and  certainty,  and  we  really  felt  as  good 
as  assassinated  and  hid  in  the  bushes  !  It  was  quite  aston 
ishing  how  our  visual  organs  intensified !  We  could  see 
every  wrinkle  and  line  in  the  fellow's  face,  could  almost 
count  the  stitches  in  his  coat,  and  the  more  we  looked,  and 
the  keener  and  more  searching  became  our  observation,  the 
more  atrocious  and  subtle  became  the  fellow  and  his  pur 
pose.  With  a  firmness  that  astonished  ourself,  we  said — 

"  No,  Sir ;  if  you  have  business  there  or  elsewhere,  you 
had  better  go  /"  and  with  this  determined  speech,  we  walked 
up  to  the  desk,  and  with  the  air  of  a  "  man  of  business"  or 
the  nonchalance  of  a  hero,  says  we — 

"  What  are  you  after — have  you  any  business  with  us  ?" 

"You're  kind  of  crusty,  Mister,"  says  he.  "I'm  can 
vassing  this  State, — wouldn't  you  like  to  subscribe  for  a 
first-rate  map  of  Missouri,  OR  A  NEW  EDITION  OF  JOSE- 
PHUS  ?" 

We  felt  too  mean  all  over  to  "  subscribe,"  but  we  found 
a  light,  and  soon  found  in  the  stranger  one  of  the  best  sort 
of  fellows,  a  man  of  information  and  morality,  and,  though 
he  had  looked  dangerous,  he  turned  out  harmless  as  a  lamb, 

and  we  got  intimate  as  brothers  before  Captain  Y 

returned  that  night. 


(Kintrson. 

OF  all  the  public  lecturers  of  our  time  and  place,  none 
have  attracted  more  attention  from  the  press,  and 
consequently  the  people,  than  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 

Lecturing  has  become  quite  a  fashionable  science — and 
now,  instead  of  using  the  old  style  phrases  for  illustrating 
facts,  we  call  travelling  preachers  perambulating  showmeu, 
and  floating  politicians,  lecturers. 

'As  a  lecturer,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  is  extensively 
known  around  these  parts ;  but  whether  his  lectures  come 
under  the  head  of  law,  logic,  politics,  Scripture,  or  the 
show  business,  is  a  matter  of  much  speculation ;  for  our 
own  part,  the  more  we  read  or  hear  of  Ralph,  the  more  we 
don't  know  what  it's  all  about. 

Somebody  has  said,  that  to  his  singularity  of  style  or 
expression,  Carlyle  and  his  works  owe  their  great  notori 
ety  or  fame — and  many  compare  Ralph  Waldo  to  old  Car 
lyle.  They  cannot  trace  exactly  any  great  affinity  between 
these  two  great  geniuses  of  the  flash  literary  school.  Car 
lyle  writes  vigorously,  quaintly  enough,  but  almost  always 
speaks  when  he  says  something ;  on  the  contrary,  our 
flighty  friend  Ralph  speaks  vigorously,  yet  says  nothing  ! 
Of  all  men  that  have  ever  stood  and  delivered  in  presence 
of  "  a  reporter,"  none  surely  ever  led  these  indefatigable 
knights  of  the  pen  such  a  wild-goose  chase  over  the  ver 
dant  and  flowery  pastures  of  King's  English,  as  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson.  In  ordinary  cases,  a  reporter  well  versed 
in  his  art,  catches  a  sentence  of  a  speaker,  and  goes  on  to 
fill  it  out  upon  the  most  correct  impression  of  what  was 
intended,  or  what  is  implied.  But  no  such  license  fol- 
(154) 


RALPH   WALDO    EMERSON.  155 

lows  the  outpourings  of  Mr.  Emerson ;  no  thought  can 
fathom  his  intentions,  arid  quite  as  bottomless  are  even  his 
finished  sentences.  We  have  known  "  old  stagers,"  in  the 
nevvspaporial  line,  veteran  reporters,  so  dumbfounded  and 
confounded  by  the  first  fire  of  Ralph,  and  his  grand  and 
lofty  acrobating  in  elocution,  that  they  up,  seized  their  hat 
and  paper,  and  sloped,  horrified  at  the  prospect  of  an  at 
tempt  to  "take  down"  Mr.  Emerson. 

If  Roaring  Ralph  touches  a  homely  mullen  weed,  on  a 
donkey  heath,  straightway  he  makes  it  a  full-blown  rose,  in 
the  land  of  Ophir,  shedding  an  odor  balmy  as  the  gales  of 
Arabia  ;  while  with  a  facility  the  wonderful  London  auc 
tioneer  Robbins  might  envy,  Ralph  imparts  to  a  lime-box, 
or  pig-sty,  a  negro  hovel,  or  an  Irish  shanty,  all  the  ro 
mance,  artistic  elegance  and  finish  of  a  first-class  manor- 
house,  or  Swiss  cottage,  inlaid  with  alabaster  and  fresco, 
surrounded  by  elfin  bowers,  grand  walks,  bee  hives,  and 
honeysuckles. 

Ralph  don't  group  his  metaphorical  beauties,  or  dain 
ties  of  Webster,  Walker,  &c.,  but  rushes  them  out  in  tor 
rents — rattles  them  down  in  cataracts  and  avalanches — be 
wildering,  astounding,  and  incomprehensible.  He  hits  you 
upon  the  left  lug  of  your  knowlege  box  with  a  metaphor  so 
unwieldy  and  original,  that  your  breath  is  soon  gone — and 
before  it  is  recovered,  he  gives  you  another  rhapsody  on 
t'other  side,  and  as  you  try  to  steady  yourself,  bim  comes 
another,  heavier  than  the  first  two,  while  a  fourth  batch  of 
this  sort  of  elocution  fetches  you  a  bang  over  the  eyes,  giv 
ing  you  a  vertigo  in  the  ribs  of  your  bewildered  senses,  and 
before  you  can  say  "  God  bless  us  !"  down  he  has  you — 
cobim  I  with  a  deluge  of  high-heeled  grammar  and  three- 
storied  Anglo  Saxon,  settling  your  hash,  and  brings  you  to 
the  ground  by  the  run,  as  though  you  were  struck  by  light 
ning,  or  in  the  way  of  a  36-pounder  !  Ralph  Waldo  is 
death  and  an  entire  stud  of  pale  horses  on  flowery  expres- 


156  HUMOUS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

sions  and  japonica-domish  flubdubs.  He  revels  in  all  those 
knock-kneed,  antique,  or  crooked  and  twisted  words  we  used 
all  of  us  to  puzzle  our  brains  over  in  the  days  of  our  youth, 
and  grammar  lessons  and  rhetoric  exercises.  He  has  a 
penchant  as  strong  as  cheap  boarding-house  butter,  for  mys 
tification,  and  a  free  delivery  of  hard  words,  perfectly  and 
unequivocally  wonderful.  We  listened  one  long  hour  by 
the  clock  of  Rumford  Hall,  one  night,  to  an  outpouring  of 
argumenium  ad  hominem  of  Mr.  Emerson's — at  what  ?  A 
boy  under  an  apple  tree  !  If  ten  persons  out  of  the  five 
hundred  present  were  put  upon  their  oaths,  they  could  no 
more  have  deciphered,  or  translated  Mr.  Ralph's  argumen 
tation,  than  they  could  the  hieroglyphics  upon  the  walls  of 
Thebes,  or  the  sarcophagus  of  old  King  Pharaoh  !  When 
Ralph  Waldo  opens,  he  may  be  as  calm  as  a  May  morn — 
he  may  talk  for  five  minutes,  like  a  book — we  mean  a  com 
mon-sensed,  understandable  book  ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  the 
fluid  will  strike  him — up  he  goes — down  he  fetches  them. 
He  throws  a  double  somerset  backwards  over  Asia  Minor 
— flip-flaps  in  Greece — wings  Turkey — and  skeets  over  Ice 
land  ;  here  he  slips  up  with  a  flower  garden — a  torrent  of 
gilt-edged  metaphors,  that  would  last  a  country  parson's 
moderate  demand  a  long  lifetime,  are  whirled  with  the  fury 
and  fleetness  of  Jove's  thunderbolts.  After  exhausting  his 
sweet-scented  receiver  of  this  floral  elocution,  he  pauses 
four  seconds  ;  pointing  to  vacuum,  over  the  heads  of  his  au 
dience,  he  asks,  in  an  anxious  tone,  "  Do  you  see  that  ?" 
Of  course  the  audience  are  not  expected  to  be  so  unman 
nerly  as  to  ask  "  What  ?"  If  they  were,  Ralph  would  not 
give  them  time  to  "go  in,"  for  after  asking  them  if  they  see 
that,  he  continues — 

"  There  !    Mark  !    Note  !  It  is  a  malaria  prism  !     Now, 
then  ;  here — there  ;  see  it !  Note  it !     Watch  it !" 

During  this  time,  half  of  the  audience,  especially  the  old 
women  and  the  children,  look  around,  fearful  of  the  ceiling 


RALPH   WALDO    EMERSON.  157 

falling  in,  or  big  bugs  lighting  on  them.  But  the  pause  is 
for  a  moment,  and  anxiety  ceases  when  they  learn  it  was 
only  a  false  alarm,  only — 

"  Egotism  !  The  lame,  the  pestiferous  exhalation  or  con 
crete  malformation  of  society  !" 

You  breathe  freer,  and  Ralph  goes  in,  gloves  on. 

"  Egotism !  A  metaphysical,  calcareous,  oleraceous 
amentum  of — society  !  The  mental  varioloid  of  this  sub 
lunary  hemisphere  !  One  of  its  worst  feelings  or  features 
is,  the  craving  of  sympathy.  It  even  loves  sickness,  be 
cause  actual  pain  engenders  signs  of  sympathy.  All  culti 
vated  men  are  infected  more  or  less  with  this  dropsy.  But 
they  are  still  the  leaders.  The  life  of  a  few  men  is  the  life  of 
every  place.  In  Boston  you  hear  and  see  a  few,  so  in  New 
York;  then  you  may  as  well  die.  Life  is  very  narrow.  Bring 
a  few  men  together,  and  under  the  spell  of  one  calm  genius, 
what  frank,  sad  confessions  will  be  made  !  Culture  is  the 
suggestion  from  a  few  best  thoughts  that  a  man  should  not  be 
a  charlatan,  but  temper  and  subdue  life.  Culture  redresses 
his  balance,  and  puts  him  among  his  equals.  It  is  a  poor 
compliment  always  to  talk  with  a  man  upon  his  specialty, 
as  if  he  were  a  cheese-mite,  and  was  therefore  strong  on 
Cheshire  and  Stilton.  Culture  takes  the  grocer  out  of  his 
molasses  and  makes  him  genial.  We  pay  a  heavy  price  for 
those  fancy  goods,  Fine  Arts  and  Philosophy.  No  per 
formance  is  worth  loss  of  geniality.  That  unhappy  man 
called  of  genius,  is  an  unfortunate  man.  Nature  always 
carries  her  point  despite  the  means  !" 

If  that  don't  convince  you  of  Ralph's  high-heeled, 
knock-kneed  logic,  or  au  fait  dexterity  in  concocting  flap 
doodle  mixtures,  you're  ahead  of  ordinary  intellect  as  far 
as  this  famed  lecturer  is  in  advance  of  gin  and  bitters,  or 
opium  discourses  on — delirium  tremensl 

In  short,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  can  wrap  up  a  subject 
in  more  mystery  and  science  of  language  than  ever  a  de- 


158  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

I 

funct  Egyptian  received  at  the  hands  of  the  mummy  manu 
facturers  !  In  person,  Mr.  Ralph  is  rather  a  pleasing  sort 
of  man ;  in  manners  frank  and  agreeable  ;  about  forty 
years  of  age,  and  a  native  of  Massachusetts.  As  a  lawyer, 
he  would  have  been  the  horror  of  jurors  and  judges  ;  as  a 
lecturer,  he  is,  as  near  as  possible,  what  we  have  described 
him. 


THERE  is  no  end  to  the  humbug  in  life.  About  half  we 
say,  and  more  than  half  we  do,  is  tinged  with  humbug. 
"My  Dear  Sir,"  we  say,  when  we  address  a  letter  to  a  fel 
low  we  have  never  seen,  and  if  seen,  perhaps  don't  care  a 
continental  cent  for  him;  dear  sir!  what  a  humbug  expres 
sion  !  "  Good  morning,"  (what  a  lie  !)  says  one,  as  he 
meets  another  one,  on  a  stormy  and  nasty  day,  "quite  a 
disagreeable  wet  day  I"  What's  the  use  of  such  a  humbug 
expression  as  that  ?  If  it's  a  disagreeable  and  stormy  day, 
every  body  finds  it  out,  naturally.  Full  half  of  the  people 
who  appear  solicitous  about  your  health,  display  a  gratui 
tous  amount  of  humbug,  for  your  pocket-book  is  more  be 
loved  than  your  health ;  and  we  have  often  wondered  why 
matter-of-fact  people  don't  out  with  it,  when  they  meet,  and 
say — "How's  your  pocket  to-day?  Sorry  to  hear  you're 
out  of  money  /"  Or,  instead  of  soft  soap,  when  they  meet, 
why  not  discard  humbug,  and  say,  "  Sorry  to  see  you — was 
blackguarding  you  all  day  !"  instead  of  "Glad  to  see  you 
— have  been  thinking  of  you  to-day  !"  or,  "  I'm  glad  to  see 
you've  been  elected  Mayor  of  the  city !"  when  in  fact  they 
mean,  "  Curse  you,  I  wish  you  had  been  defeated  !"  Com 
pliments  pass,  they  say,  when  gentlemen  meet,  but,  as  there 
are  so  many  counterfeit  gentry  around,  now-a-days,  you  may 
bet  high  that  half  the  compliments  that  pass  are — mere 
bogus ! 


FORTUNES  are  made — very  readily,  it  is  said,  in  our 
large  cities,  by  Hotel  keeping.  It  does  look  money- 
making  business  to  a  great  many  people,  who  stop  in  a 
large  hotel  a  day  or  two,  and  perhaps,  after  eating  about 
two  meals  out  of  six — walking  in  quietly  and  walking  out 
quietly — no  fuss,  no  feathers,  find  themselves  taxed  four  or 
live  dollars ! 

We  have  had  occasion  to  know  something  of  travel  and 
travellers,  hotels,  hotel-keepers  and  their  bills,  and  it  has 
now  and  then  entered  our  head  that  money  was  or  could 
be  made — in  the  hotel  business.  We  have  stopped  in 
houses  where  we  honestly  concluded — we  got  our  money's 
worth,  and  we  have  again  had  reason  to  believe  ourselves 
grossly  shaved,  in  a  "  first-class"  hotel,  at  two  dollars  a 
day — all  hurry-scurry,  poked  up  in  the  cock-loft,  mid  bugs, 
dirt,  heat  and  effluvia,  very  little  better  than  a  Dutch  tavern 
in  fly  time. 

We  did  not  fail  to  observe  at  the  same  time,  that  cool 
impudence  and  clamor  had  a  most  mollifying  effect  upon 
landlord  and  his  attaches,  the  tinsel  and  mere  electrotypes 
passing  for  real  bullion,  galvanized  hums  by  their  noise  and 
pretensions  faring  fifty  per  cent,  better  for  the  same  price 
< — than  the  more  republican,  quiet  and  human  wayfarer. 

Under  such  auspices,  it  is  not  at  all  wonderful  that  our- 
self  and  scores  of  others,  paying  two  dollars  and  a  half  per 
diem,  got  what  we  could  catch,  while  Kossuth,  and  a  score 
of  his  followers,  fared  and  were  favored  like  princes  of  a 
monarchical  realm — "  though  all  dead  heads J" 

Hotels  now-a-days  must  be  showy,  abounding  in  tin  foil, 

(159) 


1GO  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Dutch  metal  and  gamboge,  a  thousand  of  the  "  modern 
improvements" — mere  clap-trap,  and  as  foreign  to  the  solid 
comforts  of  solid  people,  as  icebergs  to  Norwegians  or 
"  east  winds"  to  the  consumptive.  Without  the  show,  they 
would  be  quite  deserted  ;  men  will  pay  for  this  shoiv,  must 
pay  for  it,  and  all  this  show  costs  money  ;  Turkey  carpets, 
life-size  mirrors,  Ottomans  and  marble  slabs,  from  dome  to 
kitchen,  draw  well,  and  those  who  indulge  in  the  dance, 
must  pay  the  piper. 

The  fact  is,  most  people  understand  these  things  about 
as  well  as  we  do,  and  it  but  remains  for  us  to  give  a  da 
guerreotype  of  a  few  customers  which  landlords  or  their 
clerks  and  servants  now  and  then  meet.  The  conductor  of 
one  of  our  first-class  houses,  gives  us  such  a  truly  piquant 
and  matter-of-fact  picture  of  his  experience,  that  we  up 
and  copy  it,  believing,  as  we  do,  that  the  reader  will  see 
some  information  and  amusement  in  the  subject. 

A  fussy  fellow  takes  it  into  his  head  that  he  will  go  on  a 
little  tour,  he  pockets  a  few  dollars  and  a  clean  dickey  or 
two,  and — comes  to  town.    He's  no  green  horn — 0  !  no,  he 
ain't,  he  has  been  around  some — he  has,  and  knows  a  thing 
or  two,  and  something  over.     He  is  dumped  out  of  the 
cars  with  hundreds  of  others,  in  the  great  depots,  and  is 
assailed  by  vociferous  whips  who,  in  quest  of  stray  dimes, 
watch  the  incoming  trains  and  shout  and  bawl — 
"Eh  'up  !  Tremont  House  !" 
"Up — a  I  American  House — right  away  !" 
"  Ila!  up!  Eight  off  for  the  Revere !" 
11  Here's  the  coach — already  for  the  United  States  !" 
"  Yee  'up  !  now  we  go,  git  in,  best  house   in  town,  all 
ready  for  the  Winthrop  House  !" 

"  Eh  'up,  ha  !  now  we  are  off,  for  the  Pavilion  !" 
"  Exchange  Coffee  House — dollar  a  day,  four  meals,  no 
extra  charge — right  along  this  way,  sir  !" 


HOTEL    KEEPING.  161 

"  Hoo-ray,  this  coach — take  you  right  up,  Exchange 
Hotel!" 

"  Jump  in,  tickets  for  your  baggage,  sir,  take  you  up 
right  off,  best  house  in  town,  hot  supper  waitin' way  for 

the  Adams  House !" 

And  so  they  yell  and  grab  at  yon,  and  our  fussy  friend, 
having  heard  of  the  tall  arrangements  and  great  doings  of 
the  American,  he  hands  himself  over  to  the  coachman,  and 
with  a  load  of  others  he  is  rolled  over  to  that  institution, 
in  a  jiffy.  Our  fussy  friend  is  slightly  "  took  down"  at  the 
idea  of  paying  for  the  hauling  up,  having  a  notion  that  that 
was  a  part  of  the  accommodation  !  However,  he  ain't  a 
going  to  look  small  or  verdant ;  so  he  pays  the  coachman, 
grabs  his  valise,  and  rushes  into  the  long  colonnaded  office ; 
and  making  his  way  to  the  register,  slams  down  his  bag 
gage,  and  in  a  dignified,  authoritative  manner,  says— 

"A  room!" 

11  Yes,  sir,"  responds  the  Colonel,  or  some  of  the  clerks 
— who  may  be  officiating. 

"  Supper  !"  says  Capt.  Fussy,  in  the  same  tone  of  com 
mand. 

"  Certainly,  sir — please  register  your  name,  sir  !" 

Captain  Fussy  off's  gloves,  seizes  the  pen,  and  down 
goes  his  autograph,  Captain  Fussy,  Thumperstown,  K  H. 

"  Now,  I  want  a  hot  steak  !"  says  he. 

"  You  can  have  it,  sir  !"  blandly  replies  the  Colonel. 

"  Hot  expiate,"  continues  Fussy. 

"  Certainly,  sir  !" 

"  Eggs,  poached,  and  a— hot  roll !" 

"  They'll  be  all  ready,  sir." 

"  How  soon  ?" 

"Five  minutes,  sir,"  says  the  Colonel,  talking  to  a  dozen 
at  the  same  time. 

"  Ah,  well — show  me  my  room  !"  says  Captain  Fussy. 

The  bells  are  ringing—servants  running  to  and  fro,  like 
10 


162  HUMORS   OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

witches  in  a  whirlwind  ;  fifty  different  calls— tastes— orders 
and  fancies,  are  being  served,  but  Capt.  Fussy  is  attended 
to,  a  servant  seizes  his  valise  and  a  taper,  and  in  the  most 
winning  way,  cries — 

"  This  way,  sir,  right  along  /"  With  a  measured  tread  and 
the  air  of  a  man  who  knew  what  it  was  all  about,  the  Cap 
tain  follows  the  garcon  and  mounts  one  flight  of  the  broad 
stairs,  and  is  about  to  ascend  another,  when  it  strikes  him 
that  he's  not  going  up  to  the  top  of  the  house,  nohow  ! 

"Where  are  you  going  to  take  me  to — up  into  the  garret  ?" 

"  Oh  !  no,  sir ;  your  room's  only  182  ;  that's  only  on  the 
third  floor  !" 

"  Third  floor  I"  cries  Capt.  Fussy,  "take  me  up  into  the 
third  story  ?" 

"  Plenty  of  gentlemen  on  the  fifth  and  sixth  floors,  sir," 
says  the  servant,  and  he  goes  ahead,  Capt.  Fussy  follow 
ing,  muttering — 

"  Pooty  doin's  this,  taking  a  gentleman  up  three  of  these 
cussed  long  stairs,  to  room  182  !  I'll  see  about  this,  I  will ; 
mus'n't  come  no  gammon  over  me ;  I'm  able  to  pay,  and 
want  the  worth  of  my  money  !" 

The  third  floor  is  reached,  and  after  a  brief  meandering 
along  the  halls,  182  is  arrived  at,  the  door  thrown  open  and 
Capt.  Fussy  is  ushered  in  ;  his  first  effort  is  to  find  fault  with 
the  carpets,  furniture,  bedding  or  something,  but  as  he  had 
never  probably  seen  such  a  general  arrangement  for  ease, 
comfort  and  convenience — he  caved  in  and  merely  gave  a 
deep-toned — 

"  All.     Got  better  rooms  than  this,  ain't  you  ?" 

"  There  may  be,  sir,  a  few  better  rooms  in  the  house,  not 
many,"  said  the  servant. 

"  Well,  you  may  go — but  stop — how  soon'll  my  supper 
be  ready  ?" 

"There'll  be  a  supper  set  at  eight,  another  at  nine,  sir." 

"  Ah,  four  minutes  of  eight,"  says  Fussy,  pulling  out  a 


HOTEL   KEEPING.  163 

"  bull's  eye"  watch,  with  as  much  flourish  as  if  it  was  a 
premium  eighieeu-carat  lever.  "  Well,  call  me  when  you've 
got  supper  ready,  do  you  hear  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  you'll  hear  the  gong." 

"  The  gong— what's  that  ?     Ain't  you  got  no  bells  ?" 

"  The  gong  is  used,  sir,  instead  of  bells,"  says  the  ser 
vant. 

"Ah,  well,  clear  out — but  say,  I  want  a  fire  in  here." 

"Yes,  sir;  I'll  send  up  a  fireman." 

"A  fireman  ?  What  do  I  want  with  firemen?  Bring  in 
some  wood,  and,  stranger — start  up — a  hello  I  thunder  and 
saw  mills,  what's  all  that  racket  about — house  a-fire  ?" 

"No,  sir!"  says  the  grinning  servant — "the  gong — sup 
per's  on  the  table !" 

"Ah,  very  well;  go  ahead;  where's  the  room  ?" 

Conducted  to  the  dining-room,  Capt.  Pussy's  eyes  stretch 
at  the  wholesale  display  of  table-cloths,  arm-chairs,  "  crock 
ery"  and  cutlery,  mirrors  and  white-aproned  waiters.  A 
seat  is  offered  him,  he  dumps  himself  down,  amazed  but  de 
termined  to  look  and  act  like  one  used  to  these  affairs,  from 
the  hour  of  his  birth  ! 

"  I  ordered  hot  steak,  poached  eggs — hain't  you  got 
'em  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir  !"  says  the  waiter,  and  the  steak  and  eggs 
are  at  hand. 

"  Coffee  or  tea,  sir  ?"  another  servant  inquires. 

"  Coffee  and  tea  !  Humph,  I  ordered  chocolate— hain't 
you  got  chocolate  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir;  there  it  is." 

"  Ah,  umph  !"  and  Fussy  gazes  around  and  turns  his  nose 
slightly  up,  at  the  whole  concern,  waiters,  guests,  table,  steak, 
eggs,  chocolate,  and — even  the  tempting  hot  rolls — before 
him. 

Fussy  calls  for  a  glass  of  water,  wants  to  know  if  there's 
fried  oysters  on  the  table ;  he  finds  there  is  not,  and  Fussy 


164  HUMORS    OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 

frowns  and  asks  for  a  lobster  salad,  which  the  waiter  in 
forms  him  is  never  used  at  supper,  in  that  hotel. 

Eventually,  Cupt.  Fussy  being  crammed,  after  an  hour's 
diligent  feeding,  fuss  and  feathers,  retires,  asks  all  sorts  of 
questions  about  people  and  places,  at  the  office;  what  time 
trains  start  and  steamers  come,  omnibuses  here  and  stages 
there,  all  of  which  he  is  politely  answered,  of  course,  and 
he  finally  goes  to  his  room,  rings  his  bell  every  ten  minutes, 
for  an  hour,  and  then — goes  to  bed  ;  next  day  puts  the  ser 
vants  and  clerks  over  another  course,  and  on  the  third  day 
— calls  for  his  bill,  finds  but  few  extras  charged,  hands  over 
a,  five,  puts  on  his  gloves,  seizes  his  valise,  looks  savagely 
dignified  and  stalks  out,  big  as  two  military  officers  in  regi 
mentals  ! 

"Ah,11  says  Fussy,  as  he  reaches  the  street,  "I  put  'em 
through — 1  guess  I  got  the  worth  of  my  money  1"^ 

We  calculate  he  did  ! 


to  ©unicr." 

OLD  GUNTER  was  going  home  t'other  night  with  a  very 
heavy  "  turkey  on" — about  a  forty-four  pounder.  Gunter 
accused  the  pavements  of  being  icy,  and  down  he  came — 
kercliug!  A  "young  lady"  coming  along,  fidgetting  and 
finiking,  she  made  a  very  sudden  and  opposite  ricochet,  on 
seeing  Gunter  feeling  the  ground,  and  making  abortive 
attempts  to  "  riz."  Gunter's  gallantry  was  "up  ;"  he  knew 
his  own  weakness,  and  saw  the  difficulty  with  the  "young 
lady ;"  so  making  a  very  determinate  effort  to  get  on  his 
pins,  Gunter  elevated  his  head  and  then  his  voice,  and  says 
he  :  "  My  de-dea-dear  ma'm,  do-do-don't  pu-pu-put  yourself 
out  of  th-th-the  way,  on  my  account !"  Tableaux — 
"  young  lady"  quick-step,  and  Gunter  playing  all-fours  in 
the  mud  ! 


(Qrartmmj  HJJOI  Jfrintk 

CITY-BRED  people  have  a  pious  horror  of  the  country 
in  winter,  and  no  great  regard  for  country  visitors 
at  any  time,  however  much  they  may  "let  on"  to  the  con 
trary. 

In  rushing  hot  weather,  when  the  bricks  and  mortar,  the 
stagnated,  oven-like  air  of  the  crowded  city  threatens  to 
bake,  parboil,  or  give  the  "citizens"  the  yellow  fever,  then 
we  are  very  apt  to  think  of  plain  Aunt  Polly,  rough- 
hewed  Uncle  John,  and  the  bullet-headed,  uncombed, 
smock-frocked  cousins,  nephews,  and  nieces,  at  their  rural 
homes,  amid  the  fragrant  meadows  and  umbrageous  woods  ; 
the  cool,  silver  streams  and  murmuring  brooks  of  the  glori 
ous  country.  Then,  the  poetic  sunbeams  and  moonshine  of 
fancy  bring  to  the  eye  and  heart  all  or  a  part  of  the  glories 
and  beauties',  uses  and  purposes  in  which  God  has  invested 
the  ruraldom. 

Now,  our  country  friends  are  mostly  desirous,  candidly 
so,  to  have  their  city  friends  come  and  see  them — not 
merely  pop  visits,  but  bring  your  whole  family,  and  stay  a 
month  !  This  they  may  do,  and  will  do,  and  can  afford  it, 
as  it  is  more  convenient  to  one's  pocket-book,  on  a  farm, 
to  quarter  a  platoon  of  your  friends  than  to  perform  the 
same  operation  in  the  city,  where  it  is  apt  to  give  your 
purse  the  tick-dollar-owe  in  no  time. 

It  Was  not  long  since,  during  the  prevalence  of  a  hot 
summer,  that  Mrs.  Triangle  one  morning  said  to  her  stew 
ing  husband,  who  was  in  no  wise  troubled  with  a  surplus  of 
the  circulating  medium — • 

"Triangle,  it's  on-possible  for  us  to  keep  the  children 

(165) 


166  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

well  and  quiet  through  this  dreadful  hot  weather.  We 
must  go  into  the  country.  The  Joneses  and  Pigwigginses 
and  Macwackinses,  and — and — everybody  has  gone  out  into 
the  country,  and  we  must  go,  too  ;  why  can't  we  ?" 

"  Why  can't  we  ?"  mechanically  echoed  Triangle,  who 
just  then  was  deeply  absorbed  in  a  problem  as  to  whether 
or  not,  considering  the  prices  of  coal,  potatoes,  house- 
rents,  leather,  and  "  dry  goods,"  he  would  fetch  up  in  prison 
or  the  poor-house  first!  It  was  a  momentous  question, 
and  to  his  wife's  proposal  of  a  fresh  detail  of  domestic  ex 
pense,  Triangle  responded — 

"  Why  can't  we  ?" 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I'd  like  to  know — why  can't  we?" 

"  We  can't,  Mrs.  Triangle,"  decidedly  answered  her  lord 
and  master. 

Now  Mrs.  T.,  being  but  a  woman,  very  naturally  went 
on  to  give  Mr.  T.  a  Caudle  lecture  half  an  hour  long, 
winding  up  with  one  of  those  time- honored  perquisites  of 
the  female  sex — a  good  cry. 

Poor  Triangle  put  on  his  hat  and  marched  down  to  his 
bake-oven  of  an  "office,"  to  plan  business  and  smoke  his 
cigar.  Triangle  came  home  to  tea,  and  saw  at  a  glance 
that  something  must  be  done.  Mrs.  Triangle  was  to  be 
"  compromised,"  or  far  hotter  than  even  the  hot,  hot  wea 
ther  would  be  his  domicile  for  the  balance  of  the  season. 
Triangle  thought  it  over,  as  he  nibbled  his  toast  and  sipped 
his  hot  Souchong. 

"  My  dear,"  said  he,  pushing  aside  his  cup,  and  tilting 
himself  upon  the  "hind  legs"  of  his  chair — "  business  is 
very  dull,  the  weather  is  intolerable,  I  know  you  and  the 
children  would  be  much  bencfitted  by  a  trip  into  the  coun 
try — why  can't  we  go  ?" 

"Why  can't  we  ?— that's  what  I'd  like  to  know  !"  was 
the  ready  response  of  Mrs.  T. 

"Well,  we  can  go.    My  friend  Jingo  has  as  fine  a  place 


QUARTERING    UPON   FRIENDS.  167 

in  the  country  as  ever  was,  anywhere ;  he  has  asked  me 
again  and  again  to  come  down  in  the  summer,  and  bring 
all  the  family.  Now  we'll  go  ;  Jingo  will  be  delighted 
to  see  us ;  and  we'll  have  a  good,  pleasant  time,  I'll  war 
rant." 

Mrs.  Triangle  was  delighted  ;  soon  all  the  clouds  of  her 
temper  were  dispersed,  and  like  people  "cut  out  for  each 
other,"  Triangle  and  his  wife  sat  and  planned  the-  details 
of  the  tour  to  Jingo  Hill  Farm.  Frederic  Antonio  Gus- 
tavus  was  to  be  rigged  out  in  new  boots,  hat,  and  breech 
es.  Maria  Evangeline  Koxana  Matilda  was  to  be  fitted 
out  in  Polka  boots,  gipsey  bonnet,  and  Bloomer  panta 
lettes,  with  an  entire  invoice  of  handkerchiefs,  scarfs,  rib 
bons,  gloves,  and  hosiery  for  "  mother,"  little  Georgiana 
Victorine  Rosa  Adelaide,  and  the  baby,  Henry  Rinaldo 
Mercutio.  After  three  days'  onslaught  upon  poor  Trian 
gle's  pockets,  with  any  quantity  of  "  fuss  and  feathers," 
Mrs.  Triangle  pronounced  the  caravan  ready  to  move.  But 
just  as  all  was  ready,  Bridget  Durfy,  the  maid-of-all-work, 
who  was  to  accompany  them  on  the  expedition  as  supervi 
sor  of  the  children,  threw  up  her  engagement. 

"  Plaze  the  pigs,"  said  Biddy  ;  "  it's  mesilf  as  niver  likes 
the  counthry,  at  all ;  an'  I'll  jist  be  afther  not  goin',  ma'm, 
wid  yez!" 

Here  was  a  go — or  rather  a  "  no  go  !"  Triangle  had 
bought  tickets  for  all,  and  ordered  the  carriage  at  four  ; 
it  was  now  three  P.  M.,  of  a  hot,  roasting  day.  It  would 
be  "  on-possible,"  as  Mrs.  T.  said,  to  go  without  a  girl ;  so 
poor,  sweltering  Triangle  rushed  down  to  the  "  Intelligence 
Office,"  where,  from  the  sweating  mass  of  female  humanity 
awaiting  a  market  for  their  time  and  labor,  Triangle  select 
ed  a  stout,  hearty  Irish  blonde,  warranted  perfect,  capable, 
kind,  honest,  and  the  Lord  only  knows  how  many  virtues 
the  keeper  of  an  "  Intelligence  Office"  will  not  swear  be 
long  to  one  of  their  stock  in  trade. 


168  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Away  went  Triangle,  sweating  and  swearing ;  the  Irish 
maiden,  swinging  a  bundle  in  one  hand  and  a  flaring  ban 
danna  in  the  other,  following  after  her  patron  with  a  duck- 
waddle  ;  and  finally  the  carriage  came  ;  all  got  in  but  Tri 
angle,  who  started  on  foot  to  the  depot,  carrying  his  double- 
barrelled  gun  and  leading  an  ugly  dog,  which  he  rejoiced 
in  believing  was  a  full-blooded  setter,  though  the  best  posted 
dog-fanciers  assured  him  it  was  a  cross  between  a  tan-yard 
cur  and  a  sheep-stealer  !  But,  after  a  world  of  motion  and 
commotion — on  the  part  of  Triangle,  about  the  dog,  tickets 
and  baggage,  and  Mrs.  Triangle,  about  the  children,  satch 
els,  her  new  gown,  and  the  sleepy  Irish  girl — they  found 
themselves  whisked  over  the  rails,  and  after  some  three 
hours'  carriage,  they  were  dumped  down  in  the  vicinity  of 
Jingo  Hall,  where  they  found  the  "  private  conveyance" 
of  the  proprietor  of  Jingo  Hill  Farm  waiting  to  carry 
them,  bandbox  and  bundle,  rag-tag  and  bobtail,  to  Jingo 
Hall. 

The  carriage  being  overfull,  Triangle  concluded  to  walk 
up,  stretch  his  legs,  try  his  dog  and  gun,  and  have  a  pop 
at  the  game.  But,  alas,  for  the  villanous  dog  ;  no  sooner 
had  he  got  loose  and  scampered  off  up  the  road,  than  he 
sees  a  flock  of  sheep  some  distance  across  the  fields,  and 
away  he  pitched.  The  sheep  ran,  he  after  the  sheep  ;  and 
poor  Triangle  after  his  dog. 

"Hay  !  you  Ponto— here— hay— Ponto-o-o  !  Hey,  boy, 
come  here,  you  dog— hi !  hi !— do  you  hear-r-r  ?" 

But  Ponto  was  off,  and  after  a  run  of  half  a  mile,  he 
came  up  with  a  lamb,  and  before  Triangle  could  come  to 
the  rescue,  Ponto  had  opened  the  campaign  by  killing 
sheep  I  Triangle  was  so  put  out  about  it  that  in  wrath 
he  up  with  his  gun  and  was  about  to  terminate  the  exist 
ence  of  the  dog,  but  compromised  the  matter  by  hitting 
him  a  whack  across  the  back  with  the  barrels  of  his  shoot 
ing-iron  ;  in  doing  so,  he  broke  off  the  stock,  clean  as  a 


"\Vith    a  rresertco  of  mind  truly  unparalleled.  sh£  ln-d  down   'baby'   upon 
the  grass,  and  made  fij;ht  w  tli   •  tlie  spiteful  i-raturs.' "— r<i'jf.  1   .). 


.  • 
'•  ,  •    •  •  r 


QUARTERING    UPON   FRIENDS.  169 

whistle  !  It  is  useless  to  deny  that  Triangle  was  mad ; 
that  he  swore  equal  to  an  Erie  Canal  boatman ;  and  that 
his  fury  so  alarmed  the  dog  that  he  took  to  his  heels  and 
went — as  Triangle  hoped — anywhere,  head  foremost. 

With  a  face  as  long  as  a  boot-jack,  quite  tuckered  out 
and  disgusted  with  things  as  far  as  he  had  got,  Triangle 
reached  Jingo  Hall,  where  he  met  the  warm  welcome  of 
his  friend,  Major  Jingo,  and  soon  recuperated  his  good 
humor  and  physical  activity  by  the  contents  of  the  Major's 
"  well-stocked"  ivine-cellar.  Ashamed  of  the  facts  of  the 
case,  Triangle  trumped  up  a  cock-and-bull  story  about  the 
dog  and  gun. 

After  a  season,  the  Triangles  got  settled  away,  and  the 
first  day  or  two  passed  without  anything  extraordinary 
turning  up,  if  we  may  except  the  upturning  of  several 
flower-pots  and  hen's  nests  by  the  children.  But  the  third 
day  opened  ominously.  Triangle's  dog  was  found  with  one 
of  the  Major's  dead  lambs  under  convoy,  and  the  Irish 
hostler  had  caught  him,  tied  him  up  in  the  stable,  and  given 
him  such  a  dressing  that  Ponto's  soul-case  was  nearly  beaten 
out  of  him  ! 

The  next  item  was  a  yowl  in  the  garden !  Everybody 
rushed  out — Mrs.  Triangle  in  her  excitement,  lest  something 
had  happened  to  "baby,"  and  Nora,  the  girl,  struck  the 
centre-table,  upset  the  "Astral, "and  not  only  demolished 
that  ancient  piece  of  furniture,  but  spilled  enough  thick  oil 
over  the  gilt-edged  literature,  table-cloth,  and  carpet,  to 
make  a  barrel  of  soft  soap. 

The  Irish  girl  came  bounding,  screeching  forth !  She 
had  been  sauntering  through  the  garden,  and  ran  against 
the  bee-hives,  when  a  bee  up  and  at  her.  With  a  presence 
of  mind  truly  unparalleled/she  laid1  .-down  "baby"  upon  the 
grass,  and  made  fight  with  "the  spiteful  craturs ;"  and  of 
course  she  got  her  hands  full,  was  beset  by  tens  and  hun 
dreds,  and  was  stung  in  as  many  places  by  the  pugnacious 


170  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBUIDGE. 

"divils."  Nora  was  done  for.  She  went  to  bed;  "baby" 
was  found  all  right,  laughing  "fit  to  break  its  yitty  hearty 
party,  at  naughty  Nora  Dory,"  as  Mrs.  Triangle  very  natu 
rally  expressed  it. 

These  two  tableaux  had  hardly  reached  their  climax, 
when  in  rushed  Frederic  Antonio  Gustavus,  with  his  capa 
cious  apron  full  of  "birds  he  killed  in  the  yard,  down  by 
the  barns."  Poor  Jingo!  and  we  may  add,  poor  Mrs. 
Jingo !  for  a  favorite  brood  of  the  finest  fowls  in  the 
country  had  been  exterminated  by  the  chivalrous  young 
Triangle,  and  in  the, bloom  of  his  heroic  act  he  dropped  the 
dead  game  at  the  f£et  of  his  horror-stricken  mother,  and 
astonished  father,  and  the  Jingos. 

That  night  the  effect  of  stuffing  with  green  fruit  to  utter 
suffocation  manifested  itself  in  a  general  and  alarming 
cholera-morbus  among  the  junior  Triangles,  and  the  whole 
house  was  up  in  arms. 

In  the  midst  of  this,  a  fresh  clamor  broke  out  in  Nora's 
chamber.  A  huge  bat  had  got  into  her  room,  and  so 
alarmed  her,  that  she  yelled  worse,  louder,  and  longer  than 
seven  evil  ones. 

It  was  a  night  of  horror  to  the  whole  family — to  every 
body  in  and  about  Jingo  Hall.  The  dogs  set  up  a  howl; 
the  children  bawled,  cried,  and  took  on  ;  the  Irish  girl 
screeched  ;  gin  and  laudanum,  peppermint  and  "lollypops," 
the  de'il  to  pay  and  no  pitch  hot. 

Triangle  felt  relieved  when  daylight  came,  and  had  it  not 
been  Sunday,  he  would  have  packed  up  and  put  back  for 
the  prosy  office  and  stagnated  quietude  of  the  city.  But  it 
was  Sunday,  and  after  the  children,  Irish  girl,  and  dogs  had 
been  partially  quieted,  down  the  carriage  came  to  the  door, 
and  as  many  as  could  get  into  it  of  the  Jingos  and  Tri 
angles,  rolled  off  to  meeting. 

Triangle  and  Jingo  went  to  escape  the  din  and  noise  of 
dressing  "  the  babies,"  &c.  ;  and  after  the  service  was 


QUARTERING    UPON   FRIENDS.  171 

over,  poor  Triangle  was  taken  aside  by  a  tall,  bony  man, 
who  reported  himself  in  no  very  ceremonious  manner  as  the 
proprietor  of  a  flock  of  sheep  scared  to  death,  and  one  rare 
lamb  killed — "  by  your  clog!"  Triangle  owned  to  the  soft 
impeachment,  and  "compromised"  for  a  Y. 

Returned  to  Jingo  Hall,  another  coup  d'etat  all  around 
the  lot  had  broken  out.  Evangeline  Roxana  Matilda  Tri 
angle  had  disappeared.  The  baby,  Georgiana  Yictorine 
Rosa  Adelaide,  had  fallen  from  a  swing  in  the  grove  and 
dislocated  her  wrist,  and  flattened  her  pretty  nose  quite  to 
her  pretty  face.  Baby  was  very  ill,  and  from  the  groans 
issuing  from  Nora's  attic,  it  was  not  on-possible  that  she 
was  sick  as  she  could  be.  A  general  search  took  place  for 
Evangeline  Roxana  Matilda,  while  Maj.  Jingo  mounted  a 
horse  and  rode  over  to  the  village,  to  bring  down  a  doctor 
for  Georgiana  Victorine  Rosa  Adelaide,  "the  baby,"  and — 
Nora  Dougherty. 

A  glance  at  the  Irish  girl  convinced  poor  tried  Triangle 
that  she  was  a  case — of  small-pox. 

Maj.  Jingo  returned,  but  without  a  medical  adviser ;  the 
village  Esculapius  having  gone  off  to  the  city.  Things 
looked  gloomy  enough.  Triangle  felt  "chawed  up,"  and 
wished  he  had  been  roasted  alive  in  the  city  before  ven 
turing  upon  such  a  trip.  But  he  felt  he  had  a  duty  to  per 
form,  and  he  determined  to  put  it  through. 

"  Major,  I'm  very  sorry,  but  the  fact  is" 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind,  my  dear  fellow — no  trouble 
to  us." 

"But,"  chokingly  continued  poor  Triangle,  "but,  Major, 
the  fact  is,  I — a — you've  got  a  large  family" 

"Never  mind,  my  dear  boy;  don't  say  any  more 
about  it." 

"  But  to  have  the— a— the— small-pox" 

"What  ?"  gasped  the  Major — "the— a" 


"  Small-pox  !"  seriously  enough  responded  Triangle. 


172  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Small-pox!  Who?  Where?" 

"  Our  Irish  girl — up  stairs — awful !" 

"  0,  good  Lord!  Irish — up  stairs — small-pox  !"  reiter 
ated  the  really  alarmed  proprietor  of  Jingo  Hall. 

"  I  wouldn't  have"' — said  Triangle. 

"  The  small-pox  in  my  house" — echoed  Jingo. 

"  For  all  the  blessed  countries  in  the  world  I"  passion 
ately  exclaimed  Triangle. 

"Heavens!"  exclaimed  the  Major;  "my  wife  has  a 
greater  dread  of  small-pox  than  yellow  fever,  or  death 
itself!" 

"  What's  to  be  done?"  said  poor  Triangle. 

"  Remove  the  girl  to  an  out-house,  instantly  !"  said  the 
Major,  pacing  up  and  down,  in  great  furore. 

"That's  best,  Major;  go  move  her,  at  once." 

"  Me  ?     Me  move  her,  sir  ?"  said  Jingo. 

"  Why  who  will,  Major  ?"  responded  Triangle. 

"  Who  ?     Why,  you,  of  course." 

"  Me  ?"  exclaimed  Triangle — "  me  ?  endanger  my  life, 
and  the  lives  of  all  my  family — me  ?  No,  sir,  I'll — I'll — 
I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do!" 

"Blur  a'  nouns,  zur !"  bawled  the  Irish  hostler,  as  he 
came  trotting  up  to  the  front  veranda,  where  Triangle  and 
Jingo  were  discussing  the  transportation  of  small-pox — 

"  Blur  a'  nouns — the  dog's  loose  !" 

"  Curse  the  dog  !"  said  the  Major. 

"But,  zur,  it's  raving  mad,  he  is  !" 

"  Mad  !  my  dog  ?"  cries  Triangle. 

"  A  mad  dog,  too  !"  exclaims  the  Major,  in  horror. 

"0,  too  bad — horrible — wish  I'd  never  seen" 

"  Get  your  gun,  quick — come  on  !"  cried  the  Major. 

"But,  my  dear  Major,  my  gun's  broke  all  to  smash.  0  ! 
that  I  had  shot  the  blasted  brute  instead  of  breaking 
my  gun !" 

"  Come  on — never  mind — seize  a  club,  fork,  or  anything, 


QUARTERING    UPON   FRIENDS.  173 

and  hunt  around  for  the  cursed  dog.  He'll  bite  some  of 
our  people,  horses,  or  cattle."  And  away  ran  the  Major, 
with  a  bit  of  stick  about  the  size  of  a  fence-rail.  Paddy 
made  himself  scarce,  and  Triangle,  in  agony,  flew  around  to 
hunt  up  his  daughter,  whom  they  found  asleep  in  a  summer- 
house. 

Mrs.  Major  Jingo,  when  she  heard  that  the  Irish  girl  had 
introduced  the  small-pox  on  Jingo  Hill,  liked  to  have  fainted 
away ;  but,  conquering  her  weakness,  she  ordered  the 
carriage,  and  bundled  herself  and  four  children  into  it,  so 

full  of  terror  and  alarm  that  she  never  so  much  as  said 

"  Take  care  of  yourself,  Mrs.  Triangle  !"  Maj.  Jingo  re 
turned,  after  a  fruitless  search  for  Triangle's  mad  dog,  and 
just  as  he  entered  the  hall,  the  Irish  girl  came  rushing  down 
stairs,  crying — 

"  0  !  murther,  murther !  I'm  dead  as  a  door-nail, 
entirely,  wid  dese  pains  in  my  face.  Be  gorra  1  0, 
murther!" 

One  look  at  the  swollen  and  truly  frightful  face  of  the 
girl  put  the  Major  to  his  taps ;  and  stopping  but  a  moment 
to  tell  Triangle  to  make  out  the  best  he  could,  he  left. 

Next  morning,  bag  and  baggage,  the  Triangles  vamosed. 
The  poor  girl  having  recovered  from  her  attack  of  the  bees, 
which  had  led  to  the  alarm  of  small-pox,  looked  quite  re 
spectable.  Never  did  a  party  enjoy  home  more  completely 
than  the  Triangles  after  that.  Triangle  has  a  holy  horror 
of  trips  to  the  country,  and  the  Jingos  are  down  on  visitors 
from  the  city. 


Jaflhrgs, 


IN  the  village  of  Washington,  Fayette  Co.,  Ohio,  there 
was  a  transient  sort  of  a  personage,  a  kind  of  floating 
farmer,  named  Ilinkle,  —  Jacob  Hinkle,  —  commonly  called 
Old  Jake  Hinkle.  Jake  was,  originally,  a  Dutchman,  a 
Pennsylvania,  Lancaster  County  Dutchman  ;  and  that  was 
about  as  Dutch  as  Holland  and  Sour  Krout  could  well 
make  a  human  "critter."  Well,  Jake  Hinkle  owned,  or 
had  squatted  on,  a  small  patch  of  land,  just  beyond  old 
Mother  Rodger's  "  bottom,"  that  is,  about  a  mile  east  of 
the  "  Rattle  Snake  Fork"  of  Paint  Creek,  which,  every 
thundering  fool  out  West  knows,  empties  itself  into  —  "  Big 
Paint,"  which  finally  rolls  out  into  the  Muskingum,  and 
thence  into  the  Ohio.  Yery  well,  having  settled  the  geo 
graphical  position  of  Jake  Hinkle,  let  me  go  on  to  state 
what  kind  of  a  critter  Jake  was,  and  how  it  came  about 
that  he  was  pronounced  dead,  one  cold  morning,  and  how 
he  came  up  to  town  and  denied  the  assertion. 

Jake  Hinkle  loved  corn,  lived  on  it,  as  most  people  do 
in  the  interior  of  Ohio  and  Kentucky  ;  he  loved  corn,  but 
loved  corn  whiskey  more,  and  this  love,  many  a  time, 
brought  Jake  up  to  "the  Court  House"  of  Washington, 
through  rain,  hail  and  snow,  to  get  a  nipper,  fill  his  jug, 
and  go  home.  Now,  in  the  West  it  is  a  custom  more 
honored  in  the  breach  than  in  the  observance,  perhaps,  for 
grog  shops  of  the  village  to  play  all  sorts  of  fantastic  tricks 
upon  old  codgers  who  come  up  to  town,  or  down  to  town, 
hitch  their  horses  to  the  fence,  and  there  let  the  "  critters" 
stand,  from  10  A.  M.  to  12  P.  M.,  more  or  less,  and  longer. 
The  most  popular  dodge  is,  to  shave  the  horse's  tail,  turn 


JAKE  HINKLE'S  FAILINGS.  175 

it  loose,  and  let  it  go  home.  Of  course,  that  horse  is  not 
soon  seen  in  the  village  again,  as  a  horse  with  a  shored  tail  is 
about  the  meanest  thing  to  look  at,  except  a  singed  pos 
sum,  or  a  dandy — you  ever  did  see. 

One  very  cold  night,  in  January,  '39,  Jake  Hinkle  came 
down  to  the  "  Court  House,"  hitched  his  horse  to  the 
Court  Square  fence,  and  made  a  straight  bend  for  Sanders' 
"  Grocery,"  and  began  to  "  wood  up."  Old  Jake's  tongue 
was  a  perfect  bell-clapper,  and  when  well  oiled  with  corn, 
juice,  could  rip  into  the  high  and  low  Dutch  like  a  nor'- 
easter  into  a  field  of  broom  corn.  Jake  talked  and  talked, 
and  drank  and  talked,  and  about  midnight,  the  cocks  crow 
ing,  the  stars  winking  and  blinking,  and  the  wind  nipping 
and  whistling  around  the  grocery,  Sanders  notified  Jake 
and  others  that  he  was  going  to  shut  up  the  concern,  and 
the  crowd  must  be  "  putting  out."  Jake  made  a  break  for 
his  nag,  but  she  was  gone.  "Why,"  says  Jake,  "she's 
broke  der  pridle  and  gone  home,  and  by  skure  I  shall 
walk," — and  off  Jake  put,  through  the  cold  and  mud. 

Next  morning,  when  the  Circleville  stage  came  along 
between  old  Marm  Rodger's  "bottom,"  and  the  Rattle 
Snake  Fork  of  Paint,  the  driver  discovered  poor  old  Jake 
laid  out,  stiff  and  cold  as  a  wedge  !  Alas,  poor  old.  Jake ! 
Gone !  Quite  a  gloom  hung  over  the  "  grocery ;"  Jake 
was  an  inoffensive,  good  old  fellow,  nobody  denied  that, 
and  certain  young  "fellers"  who  had  shaved  the  tail  of 
Jake's  mare  the  night  previous,  and  set  her  loose,  now  felt 
sort  of  sorry  for  the  deed.  The  editor  of  the  "  Argus  of 
Freedom"  came  down  to  the  "grocery,"  to  get  his  morning 
"nip, "heard  the  news,  went  back  to  his  office,  "set  up" 
Jake's  obituary  notice,  pitched  in  a  few  sorrowful  phrases, 
and  then  put  his  paper  to  press  ;  that  afternoon,  the  whole 
edition,  of  some  two  hundred  copies,  were  distributed 
around  among  the  subscribers  and  "  dead  heads,"  and  Jake 
Hinkle  was  pronounc^J  stone  dead — pegged  out ! 


176  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Two  or  three  days  afterwards,  a  man  covered  with  mud 
and  sweat,  came  rushing  into  Washington.  He  paused  not, 
nor  turned  not  right  or  left,  until  he  found  the  office  of  the 
"Argus  of  Freedom,"  where  he  rushed  in,  and  confronting 
the  editor,  he  spluttered  forth  : — 

"You  der  printer  of  dish  paper, — der  noosh  paper  ?" 

"  Yes,"  says  the  '  responsible,'  "  I  am  the  man,"  looking 
a  little  wild. 

"  Yell,  bine  de  great  Jehosaphat,  what  for  you'n  make 
me  deat  V' 

"Me  ?  Make  you  dead  ?"  says  the  no  little  astonished 
editor. 

"  Yaas  !"  bawled  old  Jake,  for  it  was  he — "You'n  tell 
de  people  I  diet;  iPs  a  lie!  And  do  you  neber  do  it 
again,  and  fool  de  peeples,  witout  you  git  a  written  order 
from  me  /" 

That  editor,  ever  afterwards,  insisted  on  seeing  the 
funeral  before  he  recorded  an  obituary  notice. 


Mintt's  ©ring  to 

IN  fifty  years  the  steam  engine  will  be  as  old  a  notion, 
and  as  queer  an  invention,  as  the  press  Ben.  Franklin 
worked  is  now.  In  fifty  years,  copper-plate,  steel-plate, 
lithography,  and  other  fine  engravings,  will  be  multiplied 
for  a  mere  song,  in  a  beautiful  manner,  by  the  now  infantile 
art  of  Daguerreotyping.  A  passage  to  California  will  then  be 
accomplished  in  twenty-four  hours,  by  air  carriages  and 
electricity ;  cr,  perhaps,  they'll  go  in  buckets  down  Artesian 
holes,  clean  through  the  earth  !  The  arts  of  agriculture  and 
horticulture  will  produce  hams  ready  roasted,  natural  pies, 
baked  with  all  sorts  of  cookies.  About  that  time,  a  man 
may  live  forever  at  a  cent  a  day,  and  sell  for  all  he's  worth 
at  last — for  soap  fat ! 


SOME  years  ago,  there  lived,  dragged  and  toiled,  in  one 
of  our  "  Middle  States,"  or  Southern  cities,  and  old 
lady,  named  Landon,  the  widow  of  a  lost  sea  captain ;  and 
as  a  dernier  resort,  occurring  in  many  such  cases,  with  a 
family  of  children  to  provide  for,— the  father  and  husband 
cut  off  from  life  and  usefulness,  leaving  his  family  but  a 
stone's  cast  from  indigence,— the  mother,  to  keep  grim 
poverty  from  famishing  her  hearth  and  desolating  her  home, 
took  in  gentlemen's  washing.  Her  eldest  child,  a  boy  of 
some  twelve  years  old,  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  the 
lagest  hotels  in  the  city,  where  he  received  the  finer  pieces 
of  the  gentlemen's  apparel,  and  carried  them  to  his  mother. 
They  were  done  up,  and  returned  by  the  lad  again. 

It  was  in  mid-winter,  cold  and  dreary  season  for  the 
poor— travel  was  slack,  and  few  and  far  between  were  the 
poor  widow's  receipts  from  her  drudgery. 

"  To-morrow,"  said  the  widow,  as  she  sat  musing  by  her 
small  fire,  "  to-morrow  is  Saturday;  I  have  not  a  stick  of 
wood,  pound  of  meal,  nor  dollar  in  the  world,  to  provide 
food  or  warmth  for  my  children  over  Sunday." 

"But,  mother," responded  her 'main  prop,'  George,  the 
eldest  boy,  "that  gentleman  who  gave  me  the  half  dollar 
for  going  to  the  bank  for  him,  last  week,— you  know  him 
we  washed  for  at  the  United  States  Hotel,— said  he  was  to 
be  here  again  to-morrow.  I  was  to  call  for  his  clothes  ;  so 
I  will  go,  mother,  to-morrow;  maybe  he  will  have  another 
errand  for  me,  or  some  money— he's  got  so  much  money  in 
his  trunk !" 

11 


178  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  So,  indeed,  you  said,  good  child  ;  it's  well  you  thought 
of  it,"  said  the  poor  woman. 

Next  day  the  lad  called  at  the  hotel,  and  sure  enough, 
the  strange  gentleman  had  arrived  again.  lie  appeared 
somewhat  bothered,  but  quickly  gathering  up  some  of  his 
soiled  clothes,  gave  them  to  the  lad,  and  bade  him  tell  his 
mother  to  wash  and  return  them  that  evening  by  all  means. 

"  Alas  !  that  I  cannot  do,"  said  the  widow,  as  her  son 
delivered  the  message.  "My  dear  child,  I  have  neither  fire 
to  dry  them,  nor  money  to  procure  the  necessary  fuel." 

"  Shall  I  take  the  clothes  back  again,  mother,  and  tell 
the  gentleman  you  can't  dry  them  in  time  for  him  ?" 

"  No,  son.  I  must  wash  and  dry  them — we  must  have 
money  to-day,  or  we'll  freeze  and  starve — I  must  wash  and 
dry  these  clothes,"  said  the  disconsolate  widow,  as  she  im 
mediately  went  about  the  performance,  while  her  son  started 
to  a  neighboring  coopering  establishment,  to  get  a  basket 
of  chips  and  shavings  to  make  fire  sufficient  to  dry  and  iron 
the  clothes. 

The  clothes  were  duly  tumbled  into  a  great  tub  of  water, 
and  the  poor  woman  began  her  manipulations.  After  a 
time,  in  handling  a  vest,  the  widow  felt  a  knot  of  something 
in  the  breast  pocket.  She  turned  the  pocket,  and  out  fell 
a  little  mass  of  almost  pulpy  paper.  She  carefully  unrolled 
the  saturated  bunch — she  started — stared  ;  the  color  from 
her  wan  cheeks  went  and  came  !  Her  two  little  children, 
observing  the  wild  looks  and  strange  actions  of  the  mother, 
ran  to  her,  screaming : 

"Dear- dear  mother!     Mother,  what's  the  matter?" 

"llush-h-h!"  said  she;  "run,  dear  children— lock  the 
door— lock  the  door  !  no,  no,  never  mind.  I  a— I  a— feel 
—dizzy !" 

The  alarmed  children  clung  about  the  mother's  knees  in 
great  affright,  but  the  widow,  regaining  her  composure, 
told  them  to  sit  down  and  play  with  their  little  toys,  and 


THE  WASHERWOMAN'S  WINDFALL.  179 

not  mind  her.  The  cause  of  this  sudden  emotion  was  the 
unrolling  of  five  five  hundred  dollar  bills.  They  were  very 
wet — nearly  "  used  up,"  in  fact — but  still  significant  of 
vast,  astounding  import  to  the  poor  and  friendless  woman. 
She  was  amazed — honor  and  poverty  were  struggling  in 
her  breast.  Her  poverty  cried  out,  "  You  are  made  up — 
rich — wash  no  more — fly  !"  But  then  the  poor  woman's 
honor,  more  powerful  than  the  tempting  wealth  in  her 
hands — triumphed !  She  laid  the  wet  notes  in  a  book, 
and  again  set  about  her  washing. 

About  this  time,  quite  a  different  scene  was  being  en 
acted  at  the  hotel.  The  gentleman  so  anxious  that  his 
clothes  should  be  returned  that  evening,  was  no  other  than 
a  famous  counterfeiter  and  forger  ;  and  it  happened,  that 
the  day  previous,  in  a  neighboring  city,  he  had  committed 
a  forgery,  drawn  some  four  or  five  thousand  dollars,  had 
the  greater  part  of  the  notes  exchanged — and,  with  the 
exception  of  the  five  large  bills  hurriedly  thrust  into  the 
vest  pocket,  and  which  he  had  sent  to  the  poor  laundress, 
there  was  little  available  evidence  of  the  forgery  in  his  pos 
session.  The  widow's  son  had  scarcely  left  the  traveller's 
room  with  the  clothes,  when  in  came  two  policemen.  The 
forger  was  not  arrested  as  a  principal,  but  certain  barely 
suspicious  circumstances  had  led  to  an  investigation  of  him 
and  his  effects. 

"You  are  our  prisoner,  sir!"  said  one  of  the  policemen, 
as  a  servant  opened  the  door  to  let  them  in. 

"Me!  What  for?"  was  the  quick  response  of  the 
forger. 

"  That  you  will  learn  in  due  season  ;  at  present  we  wish 
to  examine  your  person  and  effects." 

The  forger  started — his  heart  beat  with  the  rapidity  of 
galvanic  pulsation — the  evidence  of  part  of  his  villany  was, 
as  he  supposed,  among  his  effects.  It  was  a  moment  of 


180  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

terror  to  him,  but  it  passed  like  a  flash,  and  in  a  gay  and 
careless  tone,  he  quickly  replied  : 

"0,  very  well,  gentlemen — go  ahead.  There  are  my 
keys  and  baggage — search,  and  look  around.  I  have  no 
idea  what  you  are  after — probably  you'll  find."  In  a  low 
tone,  he  continued,  to  himself,  "By  heavens,  how  lucky  ! 
that  boy  has  saved  me  !" 

A  considerable  amount  of  money  was  found  upon  the 
forger,  but  none  that  could  be  identified,  and  after  a  long 
and  wearisome  private  examination  at  the  police  court,  he 
was  discharged.  He  returned  to  the  hotel,  and  shortly 
afterwards  the  lad  made  his  appearance  with  the  clothes, 
presenting  him  with  a  small  roll  of  damp  paper,  saying  : 

"Here,  sir,  is  something  mother  found  in  one  of  your 
pockets.  She  thinks  it  may  be  valuable  to  you,  sir,  and 
she  is  sorry  it  was  wet." 

The  forger  started,  as  though  the  little  roll  of  wet  money 
had  been  a  serpent  the  lad  was  holding  towards  him. 

"  No,  no,  my  little  man ;  return  it  to  your  mother ;  tell 
her  to  dry  it  carefully,  and  that  I  will  call  and  see  her  to-^ 
night,  when  she  can  return  the  little  parcel." 

George  stood,  his  cap  in  one  hand,  and  the  other  upon 
the  door-knob ;  the  man  was  much  agitated,  and  perceiving 
the  lad  lingered,  he  thrust  his  hand  into  a  carpet-bag,  and 
hauling  forth  an  old-fashioned  wallet,  he  opened  it,  and  taking 
thence  a  coin,  put  it  in  the  hands  of  the  lad  and  requested  him 
to  run  home  to  his  mother  and  deliver  the  message  immedi 
ately.  The  lad  did  as  he  was  ordered  ;  and  the  poor  washer 
woman,  the  while,  sat  in  her  humble  and  ill-provided  home, 
patiently  awaiting  the  return  of  her  boy,  and  fearing  the  anger 
of  the  gentleman  at  the  hotel,  when  he  should  find  his  bank 
notes  nearly,  if  not  quite  destroyed,  would  probably  so  indis 
pose  him  towards  the  child  that  he  would  return  empty- 
handed.  But  no  ;  as  the  quick  tread  of  the  blithesome 


WE   DON'T   WONDER   AT   IT. 

lad  smote  upon  the  widow's  ear,  she  rushed  to  the  door  to 
receive  him. 

"  Dear  son,  was  the  gentleman  very  angry  ?" 
"  Angry,  dear  mother  ?  No  !  he  was  far  from  angry. 
He  said  you  must  dry  these  papers,  and  he  would  call 
to-night  for  them.  And  here,  dear  mother,  he  gave  me  a 
large  piece  of  beautiful  yellow  money !"  And  the  dutiful 
boy  placed  a  golden  doubloon  in  the  trembling  hand  of 
the  overjoyed  mother.  They  were  saved — the  golden  coin 
soon  made  the  widow's  domicil  cheerful  and  happy. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say,  the  five  notes  were  not  called 
for.  They  laid  in  the  widow's  bureau  drawer  two  entire 
years,  when  a  friend  to  the  poor  woman  negotiated  for 
their  exchange  into  a  dwelling-house  and  small  store. 
And  to  this  little  incident  does  a  certain  elderly  lady  and 
her  family  owe  their  present  prosperous  and  perfectly 
honorable  position  in  the  respectable  society  of  the  city  of 


Wi  Haute  at    f. 


IN  the  city,  we  get  so  many  new  kicks,  and  put  on  so 
many  new  ways  of  living  and  doing  up  things,  that  no 
wonder  the  quiet  and  matter-of-fact  country  folks  make 
awkward  mistakes,  and  get  mixed  up  with  our  convention 
alities,  and  other  doings.  Dining  at  the  American,  last 
week,  we  sat  vis-a-vis  with  an  old-fashioned  agricultural 
gent,  whose  plate  of  mock  turtle  remained  cooling  for  some 
time,  while  he  was  busy  thinking  over  a  silver  four-pronged 
fork  in  his  hand.  At  length  a  broad  smile  played  over 
his  manly  features,  as  the  novel-makers  say,  and  he  opened  — 

"Well,  I'm  jiggered!  —  ha!  ha!  tliey've  got  to  eating 
soup  with  split  spoons,  too  /" 


(Dlb  litogtiire  mto  j)is  |)arst  ^oimg  $0011, 


FEW  animals  possess  the  sagacity  of  the  horse  ;  passive 
and  obedient,  they  are  easily  trained  ;  bring  them  up 
the  way  you  want  them  to  go,  and  they'll  go  it  !  The  horse 
in  his  old  age  does  not  forget  the  precepts  of  his  youth. 
A  very  touching  anecdote  is  told  of  a  horse,  in  the  cavalry 
service  of  the  British  army,  during  Napoleon's  time.  After 
the  battle  of  Waterloo,  when  the  combined  force  of  Eu 
rope,  through  chicanery  —  not  valor  —  defeated  the  greatest 
soldier  the  world  ever  saw,  the  British  army  was  cut  down, 
rank  and  file  —  Napoleon  having  promised  to  "  be  a  good 
boy,"  and  let  'em  alone  in  future.  Among  the  cut  ojfs, 
was  a  troop  of  horse,  and  in  this  troop  was  an  old  veteran 
Bucephalus,  who  had  stood  and  made  charges,  smelt  fire 
and  brimstone,  faced  phalanxes  of  bayonets,  and  clashed 
rough-shod  over  many  bloody  fields,  besides  Waterloo,  — 
this  old  fellow  was  turned  out  to  grass  —  cashiered.  WThen 
the  balance  of  his  retained  companions  in  saddle  were 
leaving  the  town  where  the  dismemberment  had  taken 
place,  the  old  war  horse  was  quietly  grazing  in  a  field  ;  the 
troop  passed  —  the  bugler  "sounded  his  horn,"  and  in  less 
than  forty  winks  the  old  old  horse  was  up,  off,  over  fences, 
&id  in  the  front  ranks  !  The  tenacity  with  which  he  clung 
to  his  place  in  the  column  caused  —  says  the  historian  —  the 
officers  and  men  to  shed  tears. 

So  much  by  way  of  a  prelude.  Now  for  old  Maguire 
and  his  horse.  Some  years  ago,  in  the  interior  of  Ohio, 
there  did  live  an  old  Irish  jintleraan,  who  not  only  had  a 
fine  estate,  but  likewise  a  saw-mill,  and  as  fine  an  old  black 
mare  as  ever  the  rays  of  a  noonday's  sun  lit  down  upon. 
(182) 


OLD  MAGUIRE  AND  HIS  HORSE  BONNY  DOON.  183 

"Bonny  Boon,"  Maguire's  old  marc,  was  a  wonderful 
"  critter ;"  she  opened  gates,  let  down  bars,  seized  the  pump 
handle  by  her  teeth,  and  actually  extracted  water  from  the 
barn-yard  well,  with  all  the  facility  of  a  regular  double-fisted 
genus  homo.  As  a  sly  old  joker,  she  had  performed  va 
rious  tricks,  such  as  nipping  off  the  tails  of  sucking  calves, 
catching  chickens  in  her  manger,  and  making  various  pieces 
of  them,  and  kicking  in  the  ribs  of  strange  dogs  and  horn 
ed  cattle.  But  to  the  eccentric  habits  and  bacchanalian 
customs  of  her  ex-military  master,  the  old  mare's  dormant 
talents  owed  their  "  fetching  out." 

Old  "  Captain  Maguire"  had  served  with  credit  to  him 
self  and  honor  to  the  State,  in  her  early  struggles  against 
the  Indians  and  French  Canadians.  "  Bonny  Doon"  was 
then  in  her  "  fille"-hood,  and  probably  the  most  beautiful, 
as  well  as  the  most  saucy  jade,  in  the  frontier  army.  Some 
twenty-five  years  had  passed,  and  still  the  old  captain  and 
the  niare  were  about,  every-day  cronies,  for  the  old  man 
no  more  thought  of  walking  fifty  rods,  premeditatedly,  than 
a  South  Carolina  dandy  would  dream  of  the  possibility  of 
getting  a  glass  of  water  without  the  immediate  assistance 
of  a  son  of  Ethiopia  !  The  old  man  had  become  possessed 
of  wealth  as  well  as  years — was  likewise  the  progenitor 
of  a  large  and  nourishing  family,  of  the  finest  looking  men 
and  women  in  the  State,  and  having  gotten  all  things  in 
this  pleasant  kind  of  train,  he  "  laid  off  "  in  perfect  laven 
der.  The  old  captain's  farm  was  about  four  miles  from  the 

large  and  nourishing  town  of  Z ,  and  here  the  captain 

spent  most  of  his  time.  Riding  in  on  "  Bonny  Doon,"  in 
the  morning,  and  hitching  her  to  the  sign-post,  the  poor 
beast  would  stand  there — unless  taken  in  by  the  ostler  or 
others — until  midnight,  while  the  captain  swigged  whiskey, 
and  smoked  his  pipe  in  the  tavern.  Yet  "  Bonny  Doon's  " 
affection  for  her  old  master  did  not  flag ;  she  waited  pa 
tiently  until  he  came — her  mane  and  long  tail  would  then 


184  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

switch  about,  while  she'd  "  snigger  eout"  with  gladness  at 
his  coming,  and  carry  the  old  man  through  rain  or  snow, 
moonshine,  or  total  darkness,  over  corduroy  railroads, 
bridges,  ravines,  and  last,  though  by  no  means  least,  over 
the  narrow  plank-way  of  Captain  Maguire's  saw-mill  dam, 
while  the  waters  on  each  side  foamed  and  roared  like  a 
mountain  torrent,  and  while  the  old  man  was  either  asleep 
or  his  hat  so  full  of  "  bricks,"  that  he  was  about  as  difficult 
to  balance  in  the  saddle  as  a  sack  of  potatoes  or  Turk's 
Island  salt!  A  better  citizen,  when  sober,  never  paid 
taxes  or  trod  sole  leather  in  that  State,  than  old  Captain 
Maguire  ;  but  when  he  was  "  up  the  tree,"  a  little  sprung, 
or  tigJit,  as  you  may  say,  he  was  ugly  enough,  and  chock 
full  of  wolf  and  brimstone  !  One  day  the  captain  was  sum 
moned  to  attend  court,  and  testify  in  a  case  wherein  his 
evidence  was  to  give  a  lift  to  the  suit  of  a  neighbor,  for 
whom  the  old  man  entertained  a  most  lively  disgust  and 
very  unchristianly  hate.  The  old  man,  finding  that  he 
must  go,  went.  He  wet  his  whistle  several  times  before 
starting,  repeated  the  dose  several  times  before  he  reached 
the  Court  House,  and  about  the  time  he  supposed  he  was 
wanted,  he  mounted  "  Bonny  Doon,"  and  started,  full 
chisel,  up  the  steps,  through  the  entry,  and  into  the  crowd 
ed  Court  room,  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 

"  Robert  Maguire  !  Robert  Maguire  !  Robert " 

"  Be  the  help  o'  Moses,  I'm  here  /"  roared  the  captain, 
in  response  to  the  crier. 

And  sure  enough,  he  wasn't  anywhere  else  !  There  he 
sat,  stiff,  and  formal  as  a  bronze  statue  of  some  renowned 
military  chieftain,  on  a  pot-metal  war  steed.  Some  laugh 
ed,  others  stepped  out  of  the  way  of  the  mare's  heels,  judge 
and  jury  "riz,"  some  of  the  oldest  sinners  in  law  practice 
looked  quite  "skeery,"  doubtless  taking  the  old  captain 
and  his  black  charger  for  quite  a  different  individual  1  It 
was  some  time  before  order  and  decorum  were  restored, 


OLD  MAGUIRE  AND  HIS  HOUSE  BONNY  DOON.  185 

as  it  was  much  easier  for  the  judge  to  orfier  Captain  Ma- 
guire  to  be  arrested  for  his  freak,  than  to  do  it,  "Bonny 
Doon"  not  being  disposed  to  let  any  man  approach  her 
head  or  heels.  They  shut  the  captain  up,  finally,  for  con 
tempt  of  court,  and  fined  him  twenty  dollars,  but  he  es 
caped  the  disagreeable  attitude  of  sustaining  the  suit  of  an 
enemy.  At  another  time,  the  captain,  being  on  a  time, 
dashed  into  a  meeting-house,  running  in  at  one  door,  and 
slap  bang  out  at  the  other  !  This  feat  of  Camanche  horse 
manship  rather  alarmed  the  whole  congregation,  and  cost 
the  captain  five  twenties  !  Riding  into  bar  rooms  and 
stores  was  a  common  performance  of  "Bonny  Doon"  and 
her  master  ;  and  he  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  run  the  mare 
up  two  entire  flights  of  stairs  of  the  principal  hotel,  dash 
ing  into  a  room  where  "  a  native"  was  shivering  in  bed  with 
the  fever  and  ague ;  but  the  noise  and  sudden  appearance 
of  a  man  and  horse  in  such  high  latitudes  effected  a  perma 
nent  and  speedy  cure ;  the  fright  like  to  have  destroyed  the 
sufferer's  crop  of  hair,  but  the  "a-gy"  was  skeered  clean 
out  of  his  emaciated  body. 

After  a  variety  of  adventures  by  flood  and  field,  of  hair 
breadth  'scapes,  and  eccentricities  of  man  and  beast,  they 
parted  !  "  Bonny  Doon"  being  about  the  only  living  spec 
tator  of  her  master's  end.  This  tragic  denouement  came 
about  one  cold,  stormy  and  snowy  night,  when  few  men, 
and  as  few  beasts,  would  willingly  or  without  pressing  oc 
casion,  expose  themselves  to  the  pitiless  storm.  The  old 
captain  had  been  in  town  all  day,  with  "  Bonny  Doon" 
hitched  to  the  horse  block,  and  being  full  of  "  distempering 
draughts,"  as  Shakspeare  modestly  terms  it,  and  malicious 
bravery  in  the  midst  of  the  great  storm,  late  in  the  evening 
he  mounted  his  half-starved  and  as  near  frozen  marc,  to  go 
home. 

"  Better  stay  all  night,  captain,"  coaxed  some  friend. 


186  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Hills  are  icy,  and  hollows  filled  with  snow,"  suggested 
the  landlord. 

"  I  wouldn't  ride  out  to  your  place  to-night,  captain,  for 
a  seat  in  Congress  !"  rejoined  the  first  speaker. 

"  Ye  wouldn't  ?"  replied  the  captain.  "  And — and  no 
wonder  ye  wouldn't,  fer  not  a  divil  iv  ye's  iver  had  the 
horse  as  could  carry  ye's  over  me  road  th'  night.  Look  at 
that !  There's  the  baste  can  do  it ! — d'ye  see  that  ?" 
and  as  the  old  man,  reeling  in  the  saddle,  jammed  the  row 
els  of  his  heavy  spurs  into  the  flanks  of  the  mare,  she  nearly 
stood  erect,  and  chafed  her  bits  as  fiery  and  mettled  as 
though  just  from  her  oats  and  warm  stable,  and  fifteen  years 
kicked  off. 

"Boys,"  bawled  the  captain,  "  here's  the  ould  mare  that 
can  thravel  up  a  frozen  mountain,  s.lide  down  a  greased 
rainbow,  and  carry  ould  Captain  Maguire  where  the  very 
ould  divil  himsilf  couldn't  vinture  his  dirty  ould  body. 
Hoo-o-oo-oop  !  I'm  gone,  boys  !" 

And  he  was  off,  gone,  too ;  for  the  old  man  never 
reached  the  threshold  of  his  domicil. — Next  morning  Cap 
tain  Maguire  was  found  in  the  mill-dam,  entirely  dead,  with 
poor  "Bonny  Doon,"  nearly  frozen,  and  scarcely  able  to 
walk  or  move,  standing  near  him.  But  there  she  stood, 
upon  the  narrow  icy  way  over  the  dam,  and  from  appear 
ances  of  the  snow  and  planks  of  the  little  bridge,  the  faith 
ful  mare  had  pawed,  scraped,  and  endeavored  by  various 
means  to  rescue  her  master.  The  manner  of  the  catas 
trophe  was  evident ;  the  old  man  had  become  sleepy,  and 
frozen,  and  while  the  poor  mare  was  feeling  her  way  over 
the  icy  and  snow-covered  bridge,  her  master  had  slipped 
off  into  the  frozen  dam,  and  no  doubt  she  would  have 
dragged  him  out,  could  she  have  reached  him.  As  it  was, 
she  stood  a  faithful  sentinel  over  her  lost  master,  and  did 
not  survive  him  long, — the  cold  and  her  evident  sorrow 
ended  the  eventful  life  of  "Bonnv  Doon." 


into  %  "Sigjji  $tfo. 


NEW  Year's  day  is  some  considerable  "  pumpkins"  in 
many  parts  of  the  United  States.  In  the  Western 
States,  they  have  horse-racing,  shooting-matches,  quilting- 
frolics  and  grand  hunting  parties.  In  the  South,  the  week 
beginning  with  Christmas  and  ending  with  New  Year's  day, 
is  devoted  to  the  largest  liberty  by  the  negroes,  who  have 
one  grand  and  extensive  saturnalia,  visit  their  friends  and 
relations,  make  love  to  the  "  gals"  on  neighboring  planta 
tions,  spend  the  little  change  saved  through  the  year,  or 
now  and  then  given  to  them  by  indulgent  or  generous  mas 
ters,  and  in  fact  have  a  glorious  good  time  !  The  holidays 
in  New  Orleans,  and  in  Louisiana  generally,  is  a  time,  and 
no  mistake.  The  old  French  and  Spanish  families  keep 
open  house  —  dinners  and  suppers,  music,  song  and  dance. 
On  New  Year's  eve,  they  decorate  the  graves  of  their  friends 
with  flowers.  Lamps  or  lanterns  are  often  required  for  this 
purpose,  and  as  you  pass  the  silent  grave-yards,  it  is  in 
deed  a  novel  sight  to  see  the  many  glimmering  lights  about 
the  tombs  of  the  departed.  In  most  of  the  South-Western 
towns,  the  day  is  given  up  to  fun  and  frolic.  The  Phila- 
delphians  have  a  great  blow  out.  The  streets  are  filled  by 
holiday-looking  people,  children  with  toys  and  "  mint  sticks" 
—  making  the  air  resound  with  tin  trumpets  and  penny 
whistles.  The  men  and  boys  used  to  load  up  every  thing 
in  the  shape  of  cannons,  guns,  pistols  and  hollow  keys,  and 
bang  away  from  sunset  until  sunrise,  keeping  up  a  racket, 
din  and  uproar,  equal  to  the  bombardment  of  a  citadel. 
The  authorities  stopped  that,  and  now  the  civil  young  men 
kill  the  night  and  day  in  dancing,  feasting,  and  attending 

(187) 


188  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

the  amusements,  the  multitude  of  rowdies  passing  their  time 
in  concocting  and  carrying  on  street  fights  and  running  with 
the  engines. 

But  the  New  Yorkers  bang  the  whole  of  them  ;  bear  wit 
ness,  0  ye  New  Year's  doings  I  have  there  seen.  Visiting 
your  friends,  and  your  friends'  friends.  Open  houses  every 
where  !  "Drop  in  and  take  a  glass  of  wine  or  bit  of  cake, 
if  nothing  else" — that's  the  word.  Jeremy  Diddlers  flour 
ish,  marriageable  daughters  and  interesting  widows  set  their 
caps  for  the  nice  young  men,  the  streets  are  noisy  and  full 
of  confusion,  the  theatres  and  show-shops  generally  reap  an- 
elegant  harvest,  and  the  police  reports  of  the  second  morn 
ing  of  the  New  Year  swell  monstrously  !  Of  a  New  Year's 
adventure  of  an  innocent  young  acquaintance  of  mine,  I 
have  a  little  story  to  tell. 

Jeff.  Jones  was  caught,  at  a  New  Year's  dinner  in  New 
York,  by  the  fascinating  grace  and  cap-tivating  head-gear 
of  a  certain  young  widow,  who  had  a  fine  estate.  Jeff,  was 
what  you  might  call  a  good  boy  ;  he  had  never  seen  much 
of  creation,  save  that  lying  between  Pokeepsie  (his  birth 
place)  and  the  Battery,  Castle  Garden  and  Bloomingdale. 
He  was  a  clever  fellow,  fond  of  rational  fun  and  amuse 
ment,  kept  "  a  set  of  books"  for  a  mercantile  firm  in  Mai 
den  Lane,  dressed  well,  kept  good  hours,  and  in  all  general 
respects,  was — a  nice  young  man.  He  went  with  a  friend 
on  a  tour — New  Year's  day,  to  make  calls.  After  a  number 
of  glasses  and  chunks  of  cake,  feeling  altogether  beautiful, 
he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  charming  widow,  and 
some  two  months  afterwards,  himself  and  the  widow,  a  par 
son  and  a  brace  of  male  and  female  friends,  Jeff.  Jones, 
aged  28,  took  a  partner  for  life,  ergo  he  hung  up  his  hat  in 
the  snug  domicil  of  the  flourishing  widow,  who  became 
Mrs.  Jeff.  Jones,  thereafter. 

Poor  Jeff.,  he  found  out  that  there  was  some  truth  in  the 
venerable  saying — all  is  not  gold  that  glitters.  The  charm- 


GETTING    INTO    THE    "RIGHT    PEW."  189 

ing  widow  was  seriously  inclined  to  wear  the  inexpressibles; 
and  poor  Jeff.,  being  of  such  a  gentlemanly,  good  and  easy 
disposition,  scarcely  made  a  struggle  for  his  reserved  rights. 
However,  things,  under  such  a  state  of  affairs,  grew  no 
better  fast,  and  as  Jeff.  Jones  had  neglected  to  go  around 
and  see  the  elephant  before  marriage,  he  came  to  the  con 
clusion  to  see  what  was  going  on  after  that  interesting  ce 
remony.  In  short,  Jeff,  got  to  going  out  of  nights — kept 
"  bad  hours,"  got  blowed  up  in  gentle  strains  at  first,  but 
which  were  promised  to  be  enlarged  if  Mr.  Jones  did  not 
mind  his  Ps.  and  Qs. 

The  third  anniversary  of  Jeff.  Jones's  annexation  to  the 
widow  was  coming  around.  It  was  New  Year's  day  in  the 
morn;  it  brought  rather  sober  reflections  into  Jeff's  mind, 
on  the  head  of  which  he  thought  he'd  as  soon  as  not — get 
light!  This  notion  was  pleasing,  and  dressing  himself  in 
his  best  clothes,  Jones  informed  Mrs.  J.  that  he  wished  to 
call  on  a  few  old  friends,  and  would  be  home  to  dine  and 
bring  some  friends  with  him  ! 

"  See  that  you  do,  then,"  said  Mrs.  J.,  "see  that  you  do, 
that's  all  !"  and  she  gave  Mr.  J.  "a  look"  not  at  all  like  Miss 
Juliet's  to  Mr.  Romeo — she  spoke,  and  she  said  something. 

However,  Jones  cleared  himself;  dinner  hour  arrived,  if 
Jeff.  Jones  did  not ;  Mrs.  Jones  smiled  and  chatted,  and 
did  the  honors  of  the  table  with  rare  good  grace,  but  where 
was  Jones  ? 

"  He'll  be  poking  in  just  as  dinner  is  over,  and  the  pud 
dings  cold,  and  company  preparing  to  leave  ;  then  he'll  catch 
a  lecturing." 

But  don't  fret  your  pretty  self,  Mrs.  Jones — for  dinner 
passed  and  tea-time  came,  but  no  Jones.  Mrs.  Jones  began 
to  get  snappish,  arid  by  ten  o'clock  she  had  bitten  all  the 
ends  from  her  taper  fingers,  besides  dreadfully  scolding  the 
servants,  all  around.  Mrs.  J.  finally  retired — the  clock  had 
struck  12,  and  no  Jones  was  to  be  seen  ;  Mrs.  J.  was  wor- 


190  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

ried  out ;  she  could  not  sleep  a  blessed  wink.  She  got  up 
again,  Jones  might  have  met  with  some  dreadful  accident ! 
She  had  not  thought  of  that  before  !  Perhaps  at  that  very 
hour  he  was  in  the  bottom  of  the  Hudson,  or  in  the  deep 
cells  of  the  Tombs  !  It  was  awful !  Mrs.  Jones  dressed — 
the  house  was  as  still  as  a  church-yard — she  put  on  an  old 
hood,  and  shawl  to  match,  and  noiselessly  she  crept  down 
stairs ;  and  by  a  passage  out  through  the  back  area  into  a  rear 
street.  Mrs  Jones  at  the  dead  hour  of  night  determined  to 
seek  some  information  of  her  husband.  She  had  not  gotten 
over  a  block,  or  block  and  a  half  from  her  mansion,  when 
she  spies  two  men  coming  along — wing  and  wing,  merry  as 
grigs,  reeling  to  and  fro,  and  singing  in  stentorian  notes : 

"A  man  that  is  (hie)  married  (hie)  has  lost  every  hope — 
He's  (hie)  like  a  poor  (hie)  pig  with  his  foot  in  a  rope! 

O-o-o  /  dear  >  O-o-o  !  dear — cracky  ! 
A  man  that  is  (hie)  married  has  so  (hie)  many  ills — 
He's  like  a  (hie)  poor  fish  with  a  (hie)  hook  in  his  gills ! 

O-o-o-o  !  dear!   O-o-o-o  !  dcar~  cracky  !" 

In  terror  of  these  roaring  bacchanalians,  who  w.ere  slowly 
approaching  her,  Mrs.  Jones  stood  close  in  the  doorway 
of  a  store ;  the  revellers  parted  at  the  corner  of  the  street, 
after  many  asseverations  of  eternal  friendship,  much  noise 
and  twattle.  One  of  the  carousers  came  lumbering  towards 
Mrs.  J.,~and  she,  in  some  alarm,  left  her  hiding  place  and 
darted  pass  the  midnight  brawler  ;  and  to  her  horror,  the 
fellow  made  tracks  after  her  as  fast  as  a  drunken  man  could 
travel,  and  that  ain't  slow  ;  for  almost  any  man  inside  of 
sixty  can  run,  like  blazes,  when  he  is  scarce  able  to  stand 
upon  his  pins  because  of  the  quantity  of  bricks  in  his  bea 
ver.  Mrs.  Jones  ran  towards  her  dwelling,  but  before  she 
could  reach  it,  the  ruffian  at  her  heels  clasped  her!  Just- 
as  she  was  about  to  give  an  awful  scream,  wake  up  all  the 
neighbors  and  police  ten  miles  around,  she  saw — Jones! 
Jeff.  Jones,  her  recreant  husband  ! 


GETTING   INTO    THE    "  RIGHT   PEW."  191 

It  was  a  moment  of  awful  import — the  widow  was  equal 
to  the  crisis,  however,  and  governed  herself  accordingly ; 
proving  the  truth  of  some  dead  and  gone  philosopher  who 
has  left  it  in  black  and  white,  that  the  widows  are  always 
more  than  a  match  for  any  man  in  Christendom  ! 

Jones  was  loving  drunk,  a  stage  that  terminates  and  is  a 
near  kin  to  total  oblivion,  in  bacchanalian  revels.  Jones 
had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  where  he  was — time  or  per 
sons  ;  his  tongue  was  thick,  eyes  dull,  ideas  monstrous 
foggy,  and  the  few  sentences  he  rather  unintelligibly  uttered, 
were  highly  spiced  with — my  little  (hie)  angel,  you  (hie),  you 
(hie)  live  'bout  (hie)  here  ?  Can't  you  ta-take  me  (hie)  home 
with  you,  eh?  My-my  old  woman  (hie)  would  raise-rai- 
raise  old  scratch  if  I  (hie),  I  went  home  to-to-night.  (Hie) 
I'll,  I'll  go  home  (hie)  in  the  morning,  and  (hie)  tell  her, 
ha !  ha  1  he  !  (hie)  tell  her  I've  be-be-been  to  a  fire  !" 

"  0,  the  villain,"  said  Mrs.  J.  to  herself;  "but  I'll  be 
revenged.  Come,  sir,  go  home  with  me — I'll  take  care  of 
you.  Come,  sir,  be  careful ;  this  way — in  here." 

"  Where  the  (hie)  deuce  are — are  you  going  down  this 
(hie)  cellar,  eh  ?" 

"All  right,  sir.  Come,  be  careful!  don't  fall;  rest  on 
my  arm — there,  shut  the  door." 

"Why  (hie),  ha-hang  it  a — all;  get  a  light — that's  a 
de— ar  !» 

"Yes,  yes  ;  wait  a  moment,  I'll  bring  you  a  light." 

Mrs.  J.  having  gotten  her  game  bagged,  left  it  in  the 
dark,  and  retired  to  her  bed-chamber.  Some  of  the  ser 
vants,  hearing  a  noise  in  the  basement,  got  up,  stuck  their 
noses  out  of  their  rooms,  and  being  convinced  that  a  des 
perate  scoundrel  was  in  the  house,  raised  the  very  old  boy. 
Poor  Jones,  in  his  efforts  to  get  out,  run  over  pots,  pans, 
and  chairs,  and  through  him  and  the  servants,  the  police 
were  alarmed  !  lights  were  raised,  and  Jones  was  arrested 
•  for  a  burglar ! 


192  HUMORS    OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Never  was  a  man  better  pleased  to  find  himself  in  his 
own  domicil,  than  Jones  !  It  was  all  Greek  to  the  watch 
men  and  servants ;  it  was  a  mysterious  matter  to  Jones  for 
a  full  fortnight — but  upon  promise  of  ever  after  spending 
his  new  year's  at  home,  Mrs.  J.  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag. 
Jones  surrendered ! 


Jl  Cruuitas 

WE  know  several  folks  who  have  a  way  of  beating  round 
and  boxing  the  compass,  from  A  to  Z,  and  back  again,  that 
fairly  knocks  us  into  smithereens.  One  of  these  characters 
came  to  us  the  other  day,  and  in  a  most  mysterious  manner, 
with  the  utmost  earnestness,  solemnity,  and  hocus  pocus, 
says  he — 

"  Cap'n,  (winking,)  I  wanted  to  see  you — (two  winks ;) 
the  fact  of  the  business  is,  (wink,  nod,  and  double  wink,) 
I've  wanted  to  see  you,  badly ;  you  see,  I-a — well,  what  I- 
a  (two  winks) — was  about  to  remark  (two  nods  and  a  short 
cough), — that  is  to  say,  it  don't  make  much  matter,  if-a — 
(wink,  wink,  wink ;)  you  see  it  was  in  this  way,  I-a — wanted 
to — a,  to  tell  you  that  (dreadful  lot  of  winks)  I've  been — not, 
to  be  sure,  that  it's  an  uncommon-a  thing,  (nod,  cough,  and 
forty  winks,)  but  no  doubt  if  I-a — the  fact  is — " 

"  Well,  what  in  thunder  and  rosin  is  the  fad,  old  boy  ?" 
says  we. 

"  The  fact  is,  cap'n,  I'd  a  told  you  at  once,  but-a — I 
don't  know  why  I — shouldn't  tho',  (wink  on  wink,)  have  you 
got  two  shillings  you  ivon't  want  to  use  to-day .?" 

We  hadn't ! 


filmli's  fmi  Stasmi  at  Saratoga. 

HA,  ha !"  said  Uncle  Joe  Blinks,  as  the  subject  of 
summer  travel,  a  jaunt  somewhere,  was  being  dis 
cussed  among  the  regular  boarders  in  Mrs.  Bamberry's 
spacious  old-fashioned  parlors;  "Ha!  ha!  ha!  ladies,  did 
Mrs.  Bamberry  ever  tell  you  of  my  tour  to  Saratogy 
Springs  ? — last  summer  was  two  years." 

"No,"  said  several  of  us  neuter  genders  who  had  re 
peatedly  heard  all  about  it,  but  were  desirous  that  those 
who  had  not  been  thus  gratified,  especially  the  ladies,  and 
particularly  a  Miss  Scarlatina,  who  was  dieting  for  a  tour 
to  the  famed  Springs — "tell  us  all  about  it,  Major." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Major,  with  his  favorite  exclamation, 
"  then,  by  the  banks  of  Brandywine,  if  I  don't  tell  you. 
You  see,  last  summer  was  two  years,  I  came  to  the  con 
clusion,  that  I'd  stop  off  business,  altogether,  brush  up  a 
little,  and  go  forth  a  mite  more  in  the  world,  and  I  went. 
A  friend  of  mine,  a  married  man,  was  going  up  north  to 
Saratogy,  with  his  wife  and  sister — a  plaguy  nice  young 
woman,  the  sister  was,  too  ;  well,  I  don't  know  how  it  was, 
exactly,  but  somehow  or  other,  it  came  into  my  head,  espe 
cially  as  my  friend  Padlock  had  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  like 
to  go  up  to  Saratogy — that  I'd  go,  and  I  went.  It  was 
odd  enough,  to  be  sure,"  said  Uncle  Joe,  taking  a  pinch  of 
rappee  from  his  tortoise-shell  box — "  very  odd,  in  fact, 
but  somehow  or  other,  Mrs.  Padlock,  being  in  poor  health, 
and  her  sister,  a  rather  volatile  and  inexperienced  young 
woman,  you  may  say — " 

"  So  that  you  had  to  beau  her  along  the  way,  Uncle 
Joe  ?"  says  several  of  the  company. 

12  (193) 


194  HUMORS   OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Well,  yes  ;  it  was  very  odd,  I  don't  know  how  it  was, 
but  somehow  or  other,  I-a — I-a — " 

"  Out  with  it,  Uncle  Joe — own  up  ;  you  cottoned  to  the 
young  lady,  gallant  as  possible,  eh  ?"  says  the  gents. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  it's  a  very  delicate  thing,  very  delicate,  I 
assure  you,  gentlemen,  for  an  old  bachelor  to  be  on  the 
slightest  terms  of  intimacy  with  a  young — " 

"  And  beautiful !"  echoed  the  company. 

"Unexperienced,"  continued  the  Major. 

"And  unprotected,"  says  the  chorus. 

"  Volatile,"  added  the  Major. 

"  And  marriageable  young  lady,  like  Miss — " 

"  Miss  Catchem,"  said  the  Major. 

"  Catchem  !"  cried  the  gents. 

"  Catchem,  that  was  her  name  ;  she  was  the  daughter  of 
a  very  respectable  widow,"  continued  the  Major. 

"  A  widow's  daughter,  eh  ?"  said  they  all,  now  much  in 
terested  in  Uncle  Joe's  journey  to  Saratoga,  and — but  we 
won't  anticipate. 

"  Of  a  very  respectable  widow,  whose  husband,  I  believe, 
was  a — but  no  matter,  they  were  of  good  family,  and 
a—" 

"Yes,  yes,  Uncle  Joe,"  said  the  ladies,  "  no  doubt  of  that ; 
go  on  with  your  story;  you  paid  attention  to  Miss 
Catchem ;  you  grew  familiar — you  became  mutually  pleased 
with  each  other,  and  you  finally-jgwell,  tell  us  how  it  all 
came  out,  Uncle  Joe,  do !"  they  cried. 

"  Bless  me,  ladies  !  You've  quite  got  ahead  of  my  story 
— altogether !  Miss  Catchem  and  I  never  spoke  a  word 
to  each  other  in  our  lives,"  said  the  Major. 

"Why,  Uncle  Joe  !"  cried  the  whole  party. 

"By  banks  of  Brandywine,  it's  a  fact." 

"Well,  we  never!"  cried  all  the  ladies. 

"  Well,  ladies,  I  don't  suppose  you  ever  did,"  Uncle  Joe 
responds.  "The  fact  is,  Mrs.  Padlock  died  suddenly  the 


MAJOR  BLINK  S  FIRST  SEASO>vT  AT  SARATOGA.       195 

week  Padlock  spoke  to  me  of  going  to  Saratogy,  and 
he  married  her  sister,  Miss  Catchem,  in  course  of  a  few 
weeks  after,  himself!  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  some 
how  or  other,  I  thought  it  was  all  for  the  best ;  things 
might  have  turned  out  that  I  should  have  got  tangled  up 
with  that  girl,  and  a — " 

"  Been  a  married  man,  now,  instead  of  a  bachelor, 
Uncle  Joe  !"  said  the  young  ladies. 

"  It's  odd  ;  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  ladies  ;  it  might 
have  been  so,  but  it  turned  out  just  as  I  have  stated." 

"  Well,  well,  Major,"  said  an  elderly  person  of  the  group ; 
"  go  on;  how  about  Saratoga?" 

"  I  will,"  says  Uncle  Joe,  again  resorting  to  his  rappee, 
"  I  will.  You  see  Padlock  didn't  go,  it  was  very  odd;  but 
somehow  or  other,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go,  and  I  went. 
1  calculated  to  be  gone  three  or  four  weeks,  and  I  con 
cluded  for  once,  at  least,  to  loosen  the  strings  of  my  purse, 
if  I  never  did  again ;  so  I  laid  out  to  expend  three 
dollars  or  so,  each  day,  say  eighty  dollars  for  the  trip;  a 
good  round  sum,  I  assure  you,  to  fritter  away  ;  but,  by 
banks  of  Brandy-wine,  I  was  determined  to  do  it,  and  I  did. 
It  was  very  odd,  but  the  first  person  I  met  at  New  York 
was  an  old  friend,  a  schoolmate  of  mine.  I  was  glad  to 
see  him,  and  sorry  enough  to  learn  that  he  had  failed  in 
business — had  a  large  family — poor — in  distress.  It  was 
very  odd,  but  somehow  or  other,  we  dined  at  the  hotel 
together — had  a  bottle  of  Madeira,  and  I  a — well,  I  loaned 
— yes,  by  banks  of  Brandywine,  I  gave  the  poor  fellow 
a  twenty  dollar  bill,  shook  hands  and  parted;  yes,  poor  Billy 
Merrifellow,  we  never  met  again  ;  he— he  died  soon  after, 
in  distress,  his  family  broke  up — scattered ;  it  was  very  odd  ; 
poor  fellow,  he's  gone  ;"  and  Uncle  Joe  again  had  recourse 
to  his  rappee,  while  a  large  tear  hung  in  the  corner  of  his 
full  blue  eye.  Closing  his  box,  and  wiping  his  face  with 
his  pongee,  the  Major  continued  : 


196  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Next  morning  I  called  for  my  bill.  I  was  astonished 
to  find  that  a  couple  of  bottles  of  good  wine,  two  extra 
meals,  and  something  over  one  day's  board,  figured  up  the 
round  sum  of  ten  dollars.  I  was  three  days  out,  so  far, 
and  rny  pocket-book  was  lessened  of  half  the  funds  in 
tended  for  a  month's  expenses  !  By  banks  of  Brandywine, 
thinks  Major,  my  boy,  this  won't  do  ;  you  must  econo 
mize,  or  you  shall  be  short  of  your  reckonings  before  you 
are  a  week  out  of  port.  That  morning  at  the  steam-boat 
wharf  I  meets  a  young  man  very  genteelly  dressed  ;  he 
looked  in  deep  distress  about  something.  It  was  very  odd, 
I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  somehow  or  other,  he  came 
up  to  me  and  asked  if  I  was  going  up  the  river,  and  I  very 
civilly  told  him  I  was  ;  then,  he  up  and  tells  me  he  was  a 
stranger  in  the  city,  had  lost  all  his  money  by  gambling, 
was  in  great  distress — had  nothing  but  a  valuable  watch — 
a  present  from  his  deceased  father,  a  Yirginia  planter,  and  a 
great  deal  more.  He  begged  me  to  buy  the  watch,  when 
I  refused  at  first,  but  finally  he  so  importuned  me,  and 
offered  the  watch  at  a  rate  so  apparently  below  its  real  va 
lue  that  I  up  and  gave  him  forty  dollars  for  it,  thinking  I 
might  in  part,  indemnify  my  previous  extravagance  by  this 
little  bit  of  a  trade.  It  was  very  odd  ;  I  don't  know  how 
it  was,  but  somehow  or  other,  upon  my  arrival  at  Sara- 
togy,  I  found  that  watch  wasn't  worth  the  powder  that 
would  blow  it  up  !  I  was  imposed  upon,  cheated  by  a 
scoundrel !  Here  I  was,  four  days  from  home,  and  my 
whole  month's  outfit  nigh  about  gone.  In  the  stage  that 
took  us  from  the  boat  to  the  Springs,  rode  a  very  respect 
able  youngish-looking  woman,  with  a  very  cross  child  in 
her  arms ;  we  had  not  rode  far  before  I  found  the  other 
passengers,  all  gentlemen,  apparently  much  annoyed  by  the 
child;  for  my  part  I  sympathized  with  the  poor  woman, 
got  into  a  conversation  with  her — learned  she  was  on  her 
way  to  Saratogy  to  see  her  husband,  who  was  engaged 


V 

MAJOR  BLINK'S  FIRST  SEASON  AT  SARATOGA.     197 

there  as  a  builder.  Upon  arriving  at  Saratogy,  the  young 
woman  requested  me  to  hold  her  child — it  was  fast  asleep 
— until  she  stepped  over  to  a  new  building  to  inquire  about 
her  husband.  I  did  so ;  she  went  away,  and  I  never  saw 
her  from  that  to  this  !" 

A  loud  and  prolonged  laugh  from  his  auditors  followed 
this  tableau  in  Uncle  Joe's  story.  A  little  more  rappee, 
and  the  Major  proceeded  : 

"Well,  it  was  very  odd,  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but 
some  how  or  other  I  was  left  with  the  child,  and  a  plaguy 
time  had  I  of  it ;  the  town  authorities  refused  to  take  charge 
of  it,  nobody  else  would;  so  by  Brandy  wine,  there  I  was; 
the  people  seemed  to  be  suspicious  of  me — sniggered  and 
went  on  as  though  I  knew  more  about  the  woman  and  her 
child  than  I  let  on.  In  short,  I  had  to  father  the  child, 
and  provide  for  it,  and  I  did,"  said  the  Major,  quite  pa 
triotically. 

"Well,  never  mind,  Uncle  Joe,"  said  Mrs.  Bamberry ; 
"  that  boy  may  pay  you  yet — pay  you  for  all  your  trouble  ; 
he's  growing  nicely,  and  will  make  a  fine  man." 

"  So  you  really  had  to  keep  the  child  !"  cried  several. 

"  0  yes,"  says  the  Major;  "I  was  in  for  it ;  I  got  a  nurse 
and  had  the  youngster  taken  care  of.  The  hotels  were 
crowded,  very  uncomfortable,  rooms  wretched,  small,  damp, 
and  dirty.  The  landlords  were  quite  independent,  and  the 
servants  the  most  impudent  set  of  extorting  varlets  I  ever 
encountered  !  To  keep  from  starving,  I  did  as  others — 
Ibribed  a  waiter  to  keep  my  plate  supplied.  At  night  they 
had  what  they  called  'hops  !'  in  other  words,  dances,  shak 
ing  the  whole  house,  and  raising  such  a  noise  and  hulla 
baloo,  with  cracked  horns,  squeaky  fiddles — bawling  and 
yelling,  that  no  sailor  boarding  house  could  be  half  so  dis- 
turbant  of  the  peace.  By  banks  of  Brandywine,  I  got 
enough  of  such  folderols ;  at  the  end  of  the  week  I  asked 
for  my  bill,  augmented  by  some  few  sundries — it  made  my 


198  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

hair  stand  up.  Now  what  do  you  suppose  my  bill  was,  for 
one  week,  board,  lodging,  servants'  bribes  and  sundries  ? 
I'll  tell  you,"  said  the  Major,  "  for  you  never  could  guess 
it— it  was  forty-one  dollars,  fifty  cents.  I  took  my  protege, 
bag  and  baggage,  and  started  for  home.  I  was  absent  on 
this  memorable  tour  to  Saratogy  just  two  weeks,  and  by 
banks  of  Brandy  wine,  if  the  expense  of  that  tour-— not  in 
cluding  the  time  icasted,  vexation,  bother,  mortification  of 
feelings,  fuss,  and  rumpus — was  but  a  fraction  less  than 
three  hundred  dollars  !  Four  times  the  cost  of  my  antici 
pated  trip,  lessened  half  the  time,  with  fifty  per  cent,  more 
humbug  about  it  than  I  ever  dreamed  of!" 

Miss  Scarlatina  agreed  with  the  rest  of  the  company, 
that  it  cost  Uncle  Joe  Blinks  more  to  go  to  Saratogy  than 
it  came  to,  and  they  all  concluded — not  to  go  there  them 
selves,  just  then — any  how  ! 


01U  lark 

HAD  been  spinning  old  Mrs.  Tartaremetic  any  quantity 
of  salty  yarns  ;  she  was  quite  surprised  at  Mr.  Ringbolt's 
ups  and  downs,  trials,  travels  and  tribulations.  Honest  Jack 
(!)  had  assured  the  old  dame  that  he  had  sailed  over  many 
and  many  cities,  all  under  water,  and  whose  roofs  and  chim 
neys,  with  the  sign-boards  on  the  stores,  were  still  quite 
visible.  He  had  seen  Lot's  wife,  or  the  pillar  of  salt  she 
finally  was  frozen  into  ! 

"And  did  you  see  that— Lot's  wife  ?"  asked  the  old  lady. 

"  Yes,  marm  ;  but  'tain't  there  now — the  cattle  got  afoul 
of  the  pillar  of  salt  one  day,  and  licked  it  all  up  !" 

"  Good  gracious  !  Mr.  Kingbolt !" 

"  Fact,  marm;  I  sec'd  'em  at  it,  and  tried  to  skecr  'em  away." 

"Well,  Mr.  Kingbolt,  you've  seen  so  much,  and  been 
around  so,  I'd  think  you  would  want  to  settle  down,  and 
take  a  wife  1" 


W&bo  Pto  Cmt.        ur? 

6        •»  r 

FEW  incidents  of  the  campaign  in  Mexico  seem  so 
mixed  up  and  indefinite  as  that  relative  to  the  taking 
of  Huamantla,  and  the  death  of  that  noble  and  chivalric 
officer,  Capt.  Walker.  In  glancing  over  the  papers  of 
Major  Mammond,  of  Georgia,  which  he  designates  the 
"  Secondary  Combats  of  the  Mexican  War,"  we  observe 
that  he  has  given  an  account  of  the  engagement  at  Hua 
mantla,  and  the  fall  of  Walker.  We  believe  the  Major's 
account,  compiled  as  it  is  from  "the  documents,"  to  be  in 
the  main  correct,  but  lacking  incidental  pith,  and  slightly 
erroneous  in  the  grand  denouement,  in  which  our  gallant 
friend — whose  manly  countenance  even  now  stares  us  in  the 
face,  as  if  in  life  he  "  yet  lived" — yielded  up  the  balance 
of  power  on  earth. 

We  have  taken  some  pains,  and  a  great  deal  of  interest 
surely,  in  coming  at  the  facts  ;  and  no  time  seems  so  proper 
as  the  present — several  of  the  chivalric  gentlemen  of  that 
day  and  occasion,  being  now  around  us — to  give  the  story 
its  veritable  exhibition  of  true  interest. 

Capt.  S.  H.  Walker  was  a  Marylander,  a  young  man  of 
the  truest  possible  heroism  and  gallantry.  He  entered  upon 
the  campaign  with  all  the  ardor  and  enterprise  of  a  soldier 
devoted  to  the  best  interests  of  his  country.  He  com 
manded  a  company  of  mounted  men,  whose  bravery  was 
only  equalled  by  his  own,  and  whose  discipline  and  hardi 
ness  has  been  unsurpassed,  if  equalled,  by  any  troops  of 
the  world.  We  shall  skip  over  the  thousand  and  one  inci 
dents  of  the  line  of  action  in  which  Walker,  Lewis,  and 

(199) 


200  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

their  brave  companions  in  arms  did  gallant  service,  to  come 
at  the  sanguinary  and  truly  thrilling  denouement. 

Gen.  Lane,  after  the  landing  and  organization  of  his 
troops  at  Yera  Cruz,  with  some  2500  men,  started  for  Pue- 
bla,  where  it  was  understood  that  Col.  Childs  required 
reinforcement.  Lane  left  Jalapa  on  the  1  st  of  October, 
and  hurried  forward  with  Lally's  command.  At  Perote, 
Lane  learned  that  Santa  Anna  would  throw  himself  upon  his 
muscle,  and  give  the  advancing  columns  Jessy  at  the  pass 
of  Pinal,  and  there  was  every  prospect  of  a  very  tight  time. 
Col.  Wynkoop  was  in  command  at  Perote ;  the  men  were 
anxious  to  be  "in"  at  the  fight  in  prospective,  and  Wyn 
koop  obtained  permission  to  join  the  General  with  four 
companies  of  the  Pennsylvania  Regiment;  a  small  battery 
of  the  3d  Artillery,  under  command  of  Capt.  Taylor,  with 
Capts.  Walker,  of  the  Texan  Rangers,  and  Lewis,  of  the 
Louisiana  Cavalry.  The  column  was  now  swelled  to  some 
2800.  They  moved  rapidly  forward,  and  upon  reaching 
Tamaris,  Lane  heard  that  the  old  fox  was  off — Santa  Anna 
had  gone  to  Huamantla.  Lane  determined  to  hunt  him  up 
with  haste.  The  main  force  was  left  at  Tamaris.  Troops 
were  forwarded — advanced  by  Walker's  Rangers  and 
Lewis's  Cavalry — who  approached  to  within  sight,  or  nearly 
so,  of  Huamantla.  The  orders  to  Walker  were  to  advance 
to  the  town,  and  if  the  Mexicans  were  in  force,  to  wait  for 
the  Infantry  to  come  up.  Walker's  command  rated  about 
200  men.  Upon  reaching  the  outskirts  of  Huamantla,  the 
Mexican  Cavalry  were  seen  dashing  forward  into  the  town, 
and  the  brave  Walker  ordered  a  pursuit. 

Santa  Anna  was  evidently  in  the  town.  Capt.  Walker, 
says  his  gallant  comrade  Lewis,  made  up  his  mind  to  be  the 
captor  of  the  wily  old  chief.  The  fair  prospect  of  accom 
plishing  the  deed  so  excited  Walker,  that  danger  and  death 
were  alike  secondary  considerations,  and  so  the  command 
charged  into  the  town.  Some  500  lancers  met  the  charge, 


WHO    KILLED    CAPT.    WALKER?  201 

but  with  terrific  impetuosity  the  Hangers  and  Cavalry 
dashed  in  among  them,  cutting*  them  down  right  and  left, 
and  soon  sent  them  flying  in  all  directions  !  It  was  at  this 
moment,  says  Capt.  Lewis,  that  one  of  the  most  heroic  acts 
of  bravery  was  performed,  unsurpassed,  perhaps,  by  any  act 
of  personal  daring  during  the  whole  war  !  A  tremendous 
negro,  a  fine,  manly  fellow,  named  Dave,  belonging  to 
Capt.  Walker,  with  whom  he  was  brought  up— boys  toge 
ther — being  mounted,  and  armed  with  a  heavy  sabre, 
dashed  forward  down  a  narrow  street,  (up  which,  a  de 
tached  body  of  lancers  were  striving  to  escape,)  and  throw 
ing  himself  between  three  poised  lances  and  the  person  of 
Dr.  Lamar,  one  of  the  surgeons,  who  would  have  been 
most  inevitably  torn  to  atoms,  Dave  raised  himself  in  his 
saddle,  and  with  a  yell,  and  one  fell  swoop,  the  heroic  fel 
low  "  chopped  down"  a  lancer,  clean  and  clear  to  his  saddle  ! 
Two  lancers  pierced  Dave's  body,  and  he  fell  from  his  horse, 
dead  ! 

Charging  up  to  the  Plaza — the  Mexicans  flying — Capt. 
Walker  dismounted,  with  some  thirty  of  his  men,  and  ad 
vanced  up  a  flight  of  steps  to  force  an  entrance  into  a 
church  or  convent,  where  he  supposed  Santa  Anna  was  hid 
away.  The  flying  lancers  were  pursued  by  the  Bangers, 
who,  very  injudiciously,  of  course,  scattered  themselves  over 
the  town. 

Capt.  Lewis,  in  the  mean  time,  had  found  a  large  yard 
attached  to  a  temporary  garrison,  in  which  were  some  sixty 
horses,  equipped  ready  for  immediate  use,  and  which  the 
Mexicans  had,  in  their  hurry  to  escape,  left  behind  them ! 
The  irregular  firing  of  the  Rangers,  in  pursuit  of  the  Mex 
icans,  being  deemed  useless  and  unnecessary,  Capt.  Lewis 
left  several  of  his  men,  among  whom  was  "Country  McClus- 
key,"  the  noted  pugilist,  a  volunteer  in  Capt.  Lewis's  com 
pany,  to  guard  the  horses,  while  he  rode  forward  to  the 
convent. 


202  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Capt.  Walker,"  said  Lewis,  "  I  deem  it,  sir,  not  only 
useless,  but  bad  policy,  to  allow  that  firing  by  the  men, 
around  the  town." 

Capt.  Walker  immediately  ordered  the  firing  to  cease, 
and  being  apprized  of  Capt.  Lewis's  discovery  of  the 
horses,  &c.,  ordered  him  to  bring  up  his  command.  Capt. 
Lewis  wheeled  his  horse ;  some  one  fired  close  by,  and 
Capt.  Walker  cried  out — 

"  Who  was  that  ?  I'll  shoot  down  the  next  man  who 
fires  against  my  orders  !" 

At  that  moment  three  guns  were  fired  from  the  convent 
— and  simultaneously  a  cannon  was  fired  down  the  street, 
from  a  party  of  Mexicans  in  the  distance.  Capt.  Lewis 
faced  about  just  in  time  to  see  Capt.  Walker  drop  down 
upon  the  steps  of  the  convent,  as  he  emphatically  expresses 
it,- 

"  Like  a  lump  of  lead,  sir  !" 

The  piece  up  the  street  was  fired  again.  Capt.  Lewis 
ordered  the  fallen,  gallant  Walker,  to  be  placed  upon  the 
steps  close  to  the  wall.  A  shot  from  the  piece  alluded  to 
striking  off  the  stone  and  mortar,  he  ordered  the  doors  to 
be  forced,  and  Capt.  Walker  to  be  taken  in,  which  was 
done.  The  bugle  sounded,  and  in  an  instant  a  horde  of 
lancers  poured  into  the  town,  rushing  down  upon  the  Ame 
ricans  from  every  avenue  !  Capt.  Lewis  had  wheeled  about 
to  collect  his  men,  when  he  found  McCluskey  and  others 
leading  out  ''the  pick"  of  the  captured  horses. 

"  Drop — drop  the  horses,  you  fool,  and  mount !  Mount, 
sir,  mount  !" 

They  mounted  fast  enough  ;  Lewis  formed,  and  met  the 
enemy  in  gallant  style  ;  and  though  there  were  ten,  aye, 
twenty  to  one,  possibly,  he  drove  them  back !  To  quote 
our  friend,  Major  Hammond's  words,  "Lewis,  of  the  Louis 
iana  Cavalry,  assumed  command,  struggled  ably  to  pre- 


PRACTICAL    PHILOSOPHY.  203 

serve  the  guns  (captured),  and  held  his  position  fairly, 
until  assistance  arrived." 

One  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  enemy  fell,  while  of  the 
Rangers  and  Cavalry  some  twenty-five  were  killed  and 
wounded.  They  were  engaged  nearly  an  hour,  and  the 
bravery  displayed  by  Walker,  Lewis,  and  their  men,  was 
worthy  of  general  admiration,  and  all  honor. 

Poor  Walker!  a  ball  struck  him  in  the  left  shoulder, 
passed  over  his  heart,  and  came  out  in  his  right  vest  pocket ! 

Thus  fell  the  gallant  leader  of  one  of  the  most  formidable 
war  parties,  of  its  numbers,  known  to  history.  Walker 
was  a  humane,  impulsive  man  ;  a  warm  friend,  a  brave, 
gallant  soldier.  His  dying  words  were  directed  to  Capt. 
Lewis — to  keep  the  town,  and  drive  back  the  enemy  ;  and 
that  the  chivalrous  Captain  did  so,  was  well  proven.  Capt. 
Walker,  and  his  heroic  "boy"  Dave,  who  fell  unknown  to 
his  master,  were  buried  together  in  the  earth  they  so  lately 
stood  upon,  in  all  the  glory  and  heroism  of  men  that  were 
men  I 


SKINFLINT  and  old  Jack  Ringbolt  had  a  dispute  on  Long 
Wharf,  a  few  days  since,  upon  a  religious  pint.  Jack  ar 
gued  the  matter  upon  a  specie  basis,  and  Skinflint  took  to 
"  moral  suasion."  Jack  went  in  for  equal  division  of  labor 
and  money — all  over  the  world. 

"Suppose,  now,  John,"  says  Skinflint,  "we  rich  men 
should  share  equal  with  the  poor — their  imprudence  would 
soon  throw  all  the  wealth  into  our  hands  again  !" 

"Wall,"  says  Jack,  "  s'pose  it  did!  You'd  only  have 
to — share  all  around  again  /" 


;  or,  i 


QHAKSPEARE  has  written—"  let  him  that's  robbed— 
k5  not  wanting  what  is  stolen,  not  know  it,  and  he's  not 
robbed  at  all  /"  Now  this  fact  often  becomes  very  appa 
rent,  especially  so  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Pornpaliner,  —  a  lady 
of  whom  we  have  had  occasion  to  speak  before,  the  same 
who  sent  Mrs.  Brown,  the  washerwomen,  sundry  boxes  of 
perfume  to  mix  in  her  suds,  while  washing  the  pyramids 
of  dimity  and  things  of  Mrs.  P.  There  never  was  a  lady 
—  no  member  of  the  sex,  that  ever  suffered  more,  from 
dread  of  contagion,  fear  of  dirt,  and  the  contamination  of 
other  people,  than  Mrs.  Pompaliner. 

"  Olivia,"  said  she,  one  morning,  to  one  of  her  waiting 
maids,  for  Mrs.  Pompaliner  kept  three,  alternating  them 
upon  the  principle  of  varying  her  handkerchiefs,  gloves  and 
linen,  as  they  —  in  her  double-distilled  refined  idea  of  things, 
became  soiled  by  use,  from  time  to  time.  "Olivia,  come 
here  —  Jessamine,  you  can  leave  :"  she  was  so  intent  upon 
odor  and  nature's  purest  loveliness,  that  she  either  sought 
sweet-scented  cognomened  waiting-maids,  or  nick-named 
them  up  to  the  fanciful  standard  of  her  own. 

"Olivia,  here,  take  this  handkerchief  away,  take  the  hor 
rid  thing  away.  I  believe  my  soul  somebody  has  touched 
it  after  it  was  ironed.  Do  take  it  away,"  and  the  poor 
victim  of  concentrated,  double  extract  of  human  extrava 
gance,  almost  fainted  and  fell  back  upon  her  lounge,  in  a 
fit  of  abhorrence  at  the  idea  of  her  mouchoir  being  touched, 
tossed,  or  opened,  after  it  entered  her  camphorated  drawers 
in  her  highly-perfumed  boudoir. 

"Olivia!" 
(204) 


BORROWED    FINERY.  205 

"  Yes'm,"  was  the  response  of  the  fine,  ruddy,  and  whole 
some  looking  maid. 

"Olivia,  put  on  your  gloves." 

"Yes'm." 

"  Go  down  to  Mrs.  Brown's,"  she  faintly  says — "  tell  her 
to  come  here  this  very  day." 

"Yes'm." 

"Olivia!" 

"Yes'm,"  replied  the  fine-eyed,  real  woman. 

"Got  your  gloves  on?" 

"Yes'm." 

"Well,  take  this  key,  go  to  my  boudoir,  in  the  fifth 
drawer  of  my  papier  mache  black  bureau,  you  will  find  a 
case  of  handkerchiefs." 

"Yes'm." 

"Take  out  three,  yes,  four,  close  the  case,  lock  the 
drawer,  close  the  boudoir  door,  and  bring  down  the  hand 
kerchiefs  upon  my  rosewood  tray.  Do  you  comprehend, 
Olivia?" 

"Yes'm,"  said  the  girl. 

"But  come  here;  let  me  see  your  hands.  0,  horror! 
such  gloves  !  touch  my  handkerchiefs  or  bureau  drawers 
with  those  horrid  gloves  !  Poison  me  !"  cries  the  terrified 
woman. 

"  Olivia,"  she  again  ejaculates,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
from  overtasked  nature  ! 

"Yes'm,"  the  blushing,  tickled  blonde  replies. 

"  Go  call  Yanilla,  you  are  quite  soiled  now.  I  want  a 
fresh  servant,  retire." 

"Ah,  Yanilla,  girl,  have  you  got  your  gloves  on  ?" 

"Yes'm,"  the  yellow  girl  modestly  answers. 

"  Then  do  go  and  bring  me  six  handkerchiefs  from  my 
boudoir,  in  the  fifth  drawer  of  my  black  papier  mache 
bureau.  Let  me  see  your  gloves,  dear. 

"  Ah,   Yanilla,   you   are  to   be  depended  upon ;    your 


206  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

gloves  are  clean — now  run  along,  dear,  for  I'm  suffering  for 
a  fresh,  new,  and  untouched  handkerchief. 

"Ah,  that's  well.  Now,  Vanilla,  go  to  Mrs.  Brown's, 
my  laundress — say  that  I  wish  her  to  come  here,  imme 
diately." 

"  Yes'm,"  says  the  bright  quadroon,  and  away  she  spins 
for  the  domicil  of  democratic  Mrs.  Brown,  the  laundress. 

"Now  what's  up,  I'd  like  to  know?"  quoth  the  old 
woman. 

"  Dunno,  missus  wants  to  see  you — guess  you  better 
come,"  says  Vanilla. 

"Deuce  take  sich  fussy  people,"  says  Mrs.  Brown  ;  "I 
wouldn't  railly  put  up  with  all  her  dern'd  nonsense,  ef  she 
wa'n't  so  poorly,  so  weak  in  her  mind  and  body,  and  so  good 
about  paying  for  her  work.  No,  I  declare  I  wouldn't,"  said 
the  strong-minded  woman. 

"Bring  the  creature  up,"  said  Mrs.  Pompaliner,  as  one 
of  her  fresh  attendants  announced  the  washerwoman. 

"Ah,  you  are  here  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  fat,  hardy,  and  independent,  if  awkward, 
Mrs.  Brown,  as  she  stood  in  the  august  presence  of  Mrs. 
Pompaliner,  and  the  gorgeous  trappings  of  her  own  private 
drawing-room. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  am,  ma'am  !"  says  the  she-democrat. 

"Vanilla,  tell  Olivia  to  bring  Jessamine  here." 

"Yes'm." 

"  Now  Mrs.  a— what  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Brown,  Dorcas  Brown  ;  my  husband  and  I — " 

"Never  mind,  that's  sufficient,  Mrs.  a — Brown,"  said 
the  reclining  Mrs.  Pompaliner.  "  I  wish  to  know  if  any 
body  is  permitted  to  touch  or  handle  any  of  my  wardrobe, 
my  linen,  handkerchiefs,  hose,  gloves,  laces,  etc.,  in  your 
house  ?" 

"Tetch  'em!"  echoes  the  rotund  laundress;   "  why  of 


BORROWED    FINERY.  207 

course  we've  got  to  tetch  'em,  or  how'd  we  get  'era  ironed 
and  put  in  your  baskets,  ma'am  ?" 

"Do  you  pretend  to  say,  Mrs.  a — Brown — 0  dear  !  dear  ! 
I  am  afraid  you  have  ruined  all  my  clothes  !" 

11  Ruined  'em  ?"  quoth  Mrs.  Brown,  coloring  up,  like  a 
fresh  and  lively  lobster  immersed  in  a  pot  of  highly  cal 
oric  water. 

"I  want  to  know  if  the  things  ain't  been  done  this  week 
as  well  as  I  ever  did  'em,  could  do  'em,  or  anybody  could 
do  'em  on  this  mighty  yeath  (earth),  ma'am  !" 

"  Come,  come,  don't  get  me  flustered,  woman,"  cries  the 
poor,  faint  Mrs.  Pompaliner.  "  Don't  come  here  to  worry 
me  ;  answer  me  and  go." 

"  So  I  can  go,  ma'am  !"  said  Mrs.  Brown,  with  a  vigor 
ous  toss  of  her  bullet  head. 

"  Stop,  will  you  understand  me,  Mrs. — a — " 

"Brown,  ma'am,  Brown's  my  name.  I  ain't  afeard  to  let 
anybody  know  it  I"  responded  the  spunky  laundress. 

The  arrival  of  Olivia,  who  ushered  in  Jessamine,  turned 
the  current  of  affairs. 

"Jessamine,  your  gloves  on,  dear  ?" 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Then  go  to  my  boudoir,  open  the  rose-wood  clothes 
case,  bring  down  the  skirts,  a  dozen  or  two  of  the  mou- 
choirs,  the  laces  and  hose." 

The  girl  departed,  and  soon  returned  with  a  ponderous 
paper  box,  laden  with  the  articles  required. 

"Now,"  said  Mrs.  Pompaliner,  "now,  Brown,  look  at 
those  articles  ;  don't  you  see  that  they  have  been  touched  ?" 

"  Tetched  !  lord-a-massy,  ma'am,  how'd  you  get  'em  ironed, 
folded  and  brought  home,  rna'am,  without  tetching  'em  ?" 

"Olivia,  Yanilla,  where  are  you?  Jessamine,  dear,  bring 
me  a  fresh  handkerchief,  ignite  a  pantile,  there's  such  an 
odor  in  the  room.  Do  you  smell,  Mrs.  a — Brown,  that 
horrid  lavender  or  rose,  or,  or, — do  you  smell  it,  Brown  ?" 


208  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Lord-a-massy,  ma'am,"  said  the  old  woman  of  suds,  "  I 
oilers  smell  a  dreadful  smell  here ;  them  parfumeries  o' 
yourn,  I  often  tell  my  Augusty,  I  wonder  them  stinkin' — " 

"0  !  0  !  dear  !"  cries  Mrs.  Pompaliner,  going  off  "into 
a  spell ;"  recovering  a  little,  Mrs.  Pompaliner  proceeds  to 
state  that  for  some  time  past,  she  had  been  troubled  with  a 
presentiment,  that  her  fine  clothes  had  been  tampered  with 
after  leaving  the  smoothing  iron,  and  how  fatal  to  her 
would  be  the  fact  of  any  mortal  daring  to  use,  in  the  re 
motest  manner,  any  fresh  garment  or  personal  apparel  of 
hers  !  Suspicion  had  been  aroused,  the  articles  before  the 
parties  were  now  diligently  examined,  when,  lo  !  a  spot,  not 
unlike  a  slight  smear  of  vermilion,  was  discovered  upon  a 
splendid  handkerchief— it  gave  Mrs.  P.  an  electric  shock  ; 
but,  0  horror !  the  next  thing  turned  up  was  a  spangle,  big 
as  a  half  dime,  upon  one  of  Mrs.  P.'s  most  superb  skirts! 
This  awful  revelation,  connected  with  the  smell  of  vile 
lavender  and  worse  patchouly,  upon  another  piece  of  woman 
gear,  threw  Mrs.  Pompaliner  into  spasms,  between  the 
motions  of  which  she  gasped  : 

"You  have  a  daughter,  Mrs.  Brown  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"How  old  is  she?" 

"About  seventeen,  ma'am." 

"And  she  a—?" 

"Dances  in  the  theatre,  ma'am  !" 

The  whole  thing  was  out :  the  sacred  garments  of  Mrs.  P. 
had  not  only  been  touched  by  sacrilegious  hands,  but  had 
had  an  airing,  and  smelt  the  lamps  of  the  play-house !  Mrs. 
Pompaliner  was  so  shocked,  that  four  first-class  physicians 
tended  her  for  a  whole  season. 

Mrs.  Brown  lost  a  profitable  customer,  and  well  walloped 
her  ballet-nymph  daughter  Augusty,  for  attiring  herself  in 
the  finery  of  her  most  possibly  particular  and  sensitive 
customer !  It  was  awful ! 


OLD  BEN.  FRANKLIN  said  it  was  his  opinion  that, 
between  imprisonment  and  being  at  large  in  debt  to 
your  neighbor,  there  was  no  difference  worthy  the  name  of 
it.  Some  people  have  a  monstrous  sight  of  courage  in 
debt,  more  than  they  have  out  of  it,  while  we  have  known 
some,  who,  though  not  afraid  to  stand  fire  or  water,  shook 
in  their  very  boots — wilted  right  down,  before  the  frown  of 
a  creditor !  A  man  that  can  dun  to  death,  or  stand  a 
deadly  dun,  possesses  talents  no  Christian  need  envy  ;  for, 
next  to  Lucifer,  we  look  upon  the  confirmed  "diddler" 
and  professional  dun,  for  every  ignoble  trait  in  the  charac 
ter  of  mankind.  A  friend  at  our  elbow  has  just  possessed 
us  of  some  facts  so  mirth-provoking,  (to  us,  not  to  him,) 
that  we  jot  them  down  for  the  amusement  and  information 
of  suffering  mankind  and  the  rest  of  creation,  who  now 
and  then  get  into  a  scrimmage  with  rogues,  lawyers  and 
law.  And  perhaps  it  may  be  as  well  to  let  the  indefatiga 
ble  tell  his  own  story  : 

"  You  see,  Cutaway  dealt  with  me,  and  though  he  knew 
I  was  dead  set  against  crediting  anybody,  he  would  insist, 
and  did — get  into  my  books.  I  let  it  run  along  until  the 
amount  reached  sixty  dollars,  and  Cutaway,  instead  of 
stopping  off  and  paying  me  up,  went  in  deeper  !  Getting 
in  debt  seemed  to  make  him  desperate,  reckless  !  One  day 
he  came  in  when  I  was  out ;  he  and  his  wife  look  around, 
and,  by  George  !  they  select  a  handsome  tea-set,  worth 
twenty  dollars,  and  my  fool  clerk  sends  it  home. 

"  '  Tell  him  to  charge  it  /'  says  Cutaway,  to  the  boy  who 
took  the  china  home ;  and  I  did  charge  it. 

13  (209) 


210  HUMORS    OF   FALCONERIDQE. 

"  The  upshot  of  the  business  was,  I  found  out  that  Cut 
away  was  a  confirmed  diddler  ;  he  got  all  he  wanted,  when 
and  where  he  could,  upon  the  '  charge  it'  principle,  and 
had  become  so  callous  to  duns,  that  his  moral  compunctions 
were  as  tough  as  sole  leather — bullet-proof. 

"  I  was  vexed,  I  was  mad,  I  determined  to  break  one  of 
my  'fixed  principles,'  and  go  to  law;  have  my  money, 
goods,  or  a  row  !  I  goes  to  a  lawyer,  states  my  case,  gave 
him  a  fee  and  told  him  to  go  to  work. 

"  Cutaway,  of  course,  received  a  polite  invitation  to  step 
up  to  Yan  Nickem's  office  and  learn  something  to  his  ad 
vantage  ;  and  he  attended.  A  few  days  afterwards  I  drop 
ped  in. 

" '  Your  man's  been  here,'  says  Yan  Nickem,  smi 
lingly. 

"  '  Has,  eh  ?  Well,  what's  he  done  ?'  said  I. 

"  '  O,  he  acknowledges  the  debt,  says  he  thinks  you  are 
rather  hurrying  up  the  biscuits,  and  thinks  you  might  have 
sent  the  bill  to  him  instead  of  giving  it  to  me  for  collec 
tion,'  says  the  lawyer. 

"  '  Send  it  to  him  !'  says  I.  '  Why  I  sent  it  fifty  times  ; 
— sent  my  clerk  until  he  got  ashamed  of  going,  and  my  boy 
went  so  often  that  his  boots  got  into  such  a  way  of  going 
to  Cutaway's  shop,  that  he  had  to  change  them  with  his 
brother,  when  he  was  going  anywhere  else!1 

" '  He  appears  to  be  a  clever  sort  of  a  fellow,'  said 
Yan. 

"  '  He  is,'  said  I,  '  the  cleverest,  most  perfectly-at-home 
diddler  in  town.* 

"  'Well,'  said  Yan  Nickem,  'Cutaway  acknowledges  the 
debt,  says  he's  rather  straightened  just  now,  but  if  you'll 
give  him  a  little  more  time,  he'll  fork  up  every  cent ;  so  if 
I  were  you,  I'd  wait  a  little  and  see.' 

"  Well,  I  did  wait.  I  didn't  want  to  appear  more  eager 
for  law  than  a  lawyer,  so  I  waited — three  months.  At  the 


LEGAL   ADVICE.  211 

end  of  that  time,  early  one  Saturday  morning,  in  came  Cut 
away.  'Aha!'  says  I,  'you  are  going  to  fork  now,  at 
last ;  it's  well  you  come,  for  I?d  been  down  on  you  on  Mon 
day,  bright  arid  early  !'  " 

"  You  didn't  say  that  to  him,  did  you  ?"  we  ob 
served. 

"  0,  bless  you,  no.  I  said  that  to  myself,  but  I  met  him 
with  a  smile,  and  with  a  '  how  d'ye  do,  Cutaway  ?'  and  in 
my  excitement  at  the  prospect  of  receiving  the  $80,  which 
I  then  wanted  the  worst  kind,  I  shook  hands  with  him, 
asked  how  his  family  was,  and  got  as  familiar  and  jocular 
with  him  as  though  he  was  the  most  cherished  friend  I  had 
in  the  world !  Well,  now  what  do  you  suppose  was  the 
result  of  that  interview  with  Cutaway  ?" 

"  Paid  you  a  portion,  or  all  of  your  bill  afainst  him,  we 
suppose,"  was  our  response. 

"  Not  by  a  long  shot ;  with  the  coolness  of  a  pirate  he 
asked  me  to  credit  him  for  a  handsome  wine-tray,  a  dozen 
cut  goblets  and  glasses,  and  a  pair  of  decanters ;  he  ex 
pected  some  friends  from  New  York  that  evening,  was 
going  to  give  them  a  '  set  out'  at  his  house,  and  one  of  the 
guests,  in  consideration  of  former  favors  rendered  by  him, 
was  pledged — being  a  man  of  wealth — to  loan  him  enough 
funds  to  pay  his  debts,  and  take  up  a  mortgage  on  his 
residence." 

"  You  laughed  at  his  impudence,  and  kicked  him  out  into 
the  street  ?"  said  we. 

"  I  hope  I  may  be  hung  if  I  didn't  let  him  have  the 
goods,  and  he  took  them  home  with  him,  swearing  by  all 
that  was  good  and  bad,  he  would  settle  with  me  early  the 
following  Monday  morning.  I  saw  no  more  of  him  for 
two  weeks  !  I  went  to  Yan  Nickem's,  he  laughed  at  me. 
The  bill  was  now  $100.  I  was  raging.  I  told  Yan  Nick- 
em  I'd  have  my  money  out  of  Cutaway,  or  I'd  advertise 
him  for  a  villain,  swindler,  and  scoundrel." 


212  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  '  He'd  sue  you  for  libel,  and  obtain  damages,'  said 
Van. 

" '  Then  I'll  horsewhip  him,  sir,  within  an  inch  of  his 
life,  in  the  open  street !'  said  I,  in  a  heat. 

"  'You  might  rue  that,'  said  Van.  '  He'd  sue  you  for 
an  assault,  and  give  you  trouble  and  expense.' 

"  '  Then  I  suppose  I  can  do  nothing,  eh  ? — the  law  be 
ing  made  for  the  benefit  of  such  villains  !' 

"  'We  will  arrest  him,'  said  Yan. 

"  '  Well,  then  what  ?'  said  I. 

"  '  We  will  haul  him  up  to  the  bull  ring,  we  will  have 
the  money,  attach  his  property,  goods  or  chattels,  or  clap 
him  in  jail,  sir !'  said  Yan  Nickem,  with  an  air  of  deter 
mination. 

"  I  felt  relieved  ;  the  hope  of  putting  the  rascal  in  jail, 
I  confess,  was  dearer  to  me  than  the  $100.  I  told  Yan  to 
go  it,  give  the  rascal  Jessy,  and  Yan  did ;  but  after  three 
weeks'  vexatious  litigation,  Cutaway  went  to  jail,  swore 
out,  and,  to  my  mortification,  I  learned  that  he  had 
been  through  that  sort  of  process  so  often  that,  like  the 
old  woman's  skinned  eels,  he  was  used  to  it,  and  rather 
liked  the  sensation  than  otherwise  !  Well,  saddled  with 
the  costs,  foiled,  gouged,  swindled,  and  laughed  at,  you 
may  fancy  my  feelinks,  as  Yellow  Plush  remarks." 

"  So  you  lost  the  $100 — got  whipped,  eh  ?"  we  re 
marked. 

"No,  sir,"  said  our  litigious  friend.  "I  cornered  him,  I 
got  old  Cutaway  in  a  tight  place  at  last,  and  that's  the  pith 
of  the  transaction.  Cutaway,  having  swindled  and  shaved 
about  half  the  community  with  whom  he  had  any  transac 
tions, — got  his  affairs  all  fixed  smooth  and  quiet,  and  with 
his  family  was  off  for  California.  I  got  wind  of  it, — Yan 
Nickem  and  I  had  a  conference. 

"  '  We'll  have  him,'  says  Yan.  '  Find  out  what  time  he 
sails,  where  the  vessel  is,  <fec.  j  lay  back  until  a  few  hours 


WONDERS    OF   THE   DAY.  213 

before  the  vessel  is  to  cut  loose,  then  go  down,  get  the  fel 
low  ashore  if  you  can,  talk  to  him,  soft  soap  him,  ask  him 
if  he  won't  pay  if  he  has  luck  in  California,  &c.,  and  so  on, 
and  when  you've  got  him  a  hundred  yards  from  the  vessel, 
knock  him  down,  pummel  him  well  ;  I'll  have  an  officer 
ready  to  arrest  both  of  you  for  breach  of  the  peace ;  when 
you  are  brought  up,  I'll  have  a  charge  made  out  against 
Cutaway  for  something  or  other,  and  if  he  don't  fork  out 
and  clear,  I'm  mistaken,'  said  Van.  I  followed  his  advice 
to  the  letter  ;  I  pummelled  Cutaway  well  ;  we  were  taken 
up  and  fined,  and  Cutaway  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  say  but 
little  and  get  off.  But  Van  and  the  writ  appeared.  Cuta 
way  looked  streaked — he  was  alarmed.  In  two  hours'  time 
he  disgorged  not  only  my  bill,  but  a  bill  of  forty  dollars 
costs  !  He  then  cut  for  the  ship,  the  meanest  looking  white 
man  you  ever  saw  !" 

If  Mr.  Cutaway  don't  take  the  force  of  that  moral,  salt 
won't  save  him. 


Mongers  jof 

THE  "  firm"  who  save  a  hogshead  of  ink,  annually,  by 
not  allowing  their  clerks  and  book-keepers  to  dot  their 
i's  or  cross  their  t's,  are  now  bargaining  (with  the  old 
school  gentlemen  who  split  a  knife  that  cost  a  fourpence, 
in  skinning  a  flea  for  his  hide  and  tallow!)  for  a  two- 
pronged  pen,  which  cuts  short  business  letters  and  printed 
bill-heads,  by  enabling  a  clerk  to  write  on  both  sides  of  the 
paper,  two  lines  at  a  time.  Great  improvement  on  the  old 
method,  ain't  it? 


•'•••  '    "gon'i  Ihiofo  fra,  Sir!" 

WE  shall  never  forget,  and  always  feel  proud  of  the 
fact,  that  we  knew  so  great  an  every-day  Plato  as 
Davy  Crockett.  Had  the  old  Colonel  never  uttered  a  bet 
ter  idea  than  that  everlasting  good  motto — "  Be  sure  you're 
right,  then  go  ahead  1"  his  wisdom  would  stand  a  pretty 
good  wrestle  with  tide  and  time,  before  his  standing,  as  a 
man  of  genius,  would  pass  to  oblivion — be  washed  out  in 
Lethe's  waters.  We  remember  hearing  Col.  Crockett  re 
late,  during  a  "  speech,"  a  short  time  before  he  lost  his  life 
at  the  Alamo,  in  Texas — a  little  incident,  of  his  being  taken 
up  in  New  Orleans,  one  night,  by  a  gen  d'arme — lugged  to 
the  calaboose,  and  kept  there  as  an  out-and-out  "  hard 
case,"  not  being  able  to  find  any  body,  hardly,  that  knew 
him,  and  being  totally  unable  to  reconcile  the  chief  of  po 
lice  to  the  fact  that  he  was  the  identical  Davy  Crockett,  or 
any  body  else,  above  par  !  "If  you  want  to  find  out  your 
'  level,' — ad  valorem,  wake  up  some  morning,  noon  or  night 
— where  nobody  knows  7/o?^/"said  the  Colonel,  "and  if 
you  ever  feel  so  essentially  chawed  up,  raw,  as  I  did  in  the 
calaboose,  the  Lord  pity  you  !" 

There  was  a  "  modern  instance"  of  Colonel  Crockett's 
"  wise  saw,"  in  the  case  of  a  certain  Philadelphia  million 
aire,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  carting  himself  out,  in  a  very 
ancient  and  excessively  shabby  gig  ;  which,  in  consequence 
of  its  utter  ignorance  of  the  stable-boy's  brush,  sponge  or 
broom,  and  the  hospitalities  the  old  concern  nightly  offered 
the  hens — was  not  exactly  the  kind  of  equipage  calculated 
to  win  attention  or  marked  respect,  for  the  owner  and  dri 
ver.  The  old  millionaire,  one  day  in  early  October,  took 
(214) 


"  DON'T  KNOW  YOU,  SIR  !"  215 

it  into  his  head  to  ride  out  and  see  the  country.  Taking 
an  early  start,  the  old  gentleman,  and  his  old  bob-tailed, 
frost-bitten-looking  horse,  with  that  same  old  shabby  gig, 
about  dusk,  found  themselves  under  the  swinging  sign  of  a 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  tavern,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Read 
ing.  As  nobody  bestirred  themselves  to  see  to  the  travel 
ler,  he  put  his  very  old-fashioned  face  and  wig  outside  of 
the  vehicle,  and  called — 

"  Hel-lo  !  hos-e-lair  ?  Landlord  ?" 

Leisurely  stalking  down  the  steps,  the  Dutch  hostler  ad 
vanced  towards  the  queer  and  questionable  travelling  equi 
page. 

"  Vel,  vot  you  vont,  ah  ?" 

"  Yat  sal  I  vant  ?  I  sal  vant  to  put  oup  my  hoss,  vis-ze 
stab'l,  viz  two  pecks  of  oats  and  plenty  of  hay,  hos-e-lair." 

"  Yaw,"  was  the  laconic  grunt  of  the  hostler,  as  he  pro 
ceeded  to  unhitch  old  bald-face  from  his  rigging. 

"  Stop  one  little,"  said  the  traveller.  "I  see  'tis  very 
mosh  like  to  rain,  to-night ;  put  up  my  gig  in  ze  stab'l,  too." 

"Boosh,  tonner  and  blitzen,  der  rain  not  hurt  yer  ole 
gig!" 

"  I  pay  you  for  vat  you  sal  do  for  me,  mind  vat  I  sal 
say,  sair,  if  you  pleaze." 

The  hostler,  very  surlily,  led  the  traveller's  weary  old 
brute  to  the  stable  ;  but,  prior  to  carrying  out  the  orders 
of  the  traveller,  he  sought  the  landlord,  to  know  if  it  would 
pay  to  put  up  the  shabby  concern,  and  treat  the  old  horse 
to  a  real  feed  of  hay  and  oats,  without  making  some  inqui 
ries  into  the  financial  situation  of  the  old  Frenchman. 

The  landlord,  with  a  country  lawyer  and  a  neighboring 
farmer,  were  at  the  Bar,  one  of  those  old-fashioned  slatted 
coops,  in  a  corner,  peculiar  to  Pennsylvania,  discussing  the 
merits  of  a  law  suit,  seizure  of  the  property,  &c.,  of  a  de 
ceased  tiller  of  the  soil,  in  the  vicinity.  Busily  chatting, 
and  quaffing  their  toddy,  the  entrance  of  the  poor  old  tni- 


216  HUMORS   OF  FALCONBRIDGE. 

Teller  was  scarcely  noticed,  until  he  had  divested  himself 
of  his  old,  many-caped  cloak,  and  demurely  taken  a  seat  in 
the  room.  The  hostler  having  reappeared,  and  talked  a 
little  Dutch  to  the  host,  that  worthy  turned  to  the  tra 
veller — 

"  Good  even'ns,  thravel'r  !" 

"Yes,  sair;"  pleasantly  responded  the  Frenchman,  "a 
little." 

"You  got  a  hoss,  eh  ?"  continued  the  landlord. 

"  Yes,  sair,  I  vish  ze  hostlair  to  give  mine  hoss  plenty  to 
eat — plenty  hay,  plenty  oats,  plenty  watair,  sair." 

"  Yaw,"  responded  the  landlord,  "  den,  Jacob,  give'm  der 
oats,  and  der  hay,  and  der  water;"  and,  with  this  brief 
direction  to  his  subordinate,  the  landlord  turned  away  from 
the  way-worn  traveller  to  resume  his  conversation  with  his 
more,  apparently,  influential  friends.  The  old  Frenchman 
very  patiently  waited  until  the  discussion  should  cease,  and 
the  landlord's  ear  be  disengaged,  that  he  might  be  apprized 
of  the  fact  that  travellers  had  stomachs,  and  that  of  the 
old  French  gentleman  was  highly  incensed  by  long  delay, 
and  more  particularly  by  the  odorous  fumes  of  roast  fowls, 
ham  and  eggs,  &c.f  issuing  from  the  inner  portion  of  the 
tavern. 

"  Landlord,  I  vil  take  suppair,  if  you  please,"  said  he. 

"Yaw;  after  dese  gentlemans  shall  eat  der  suppers,  den 
somesing  will  be  prepared  for  you." 

"  Sair  !"  said  the  old  Frenchman,  firing  up  ;  "I  vill  not 
vait  for  ze  shentilmen  ;  I  varit  my  suppair  now,  directly — 
right  away  ;  I  not  vait  for  nobody,  sair  !" 

"If  you  no  like  'em,  den  you  go  off,  out  mine  house," 
answered  the  old  sour  krout,  "  you  old  barber  1" 

"  Bar-bair !"  gasped  the  old  Frenchman,  in  suppressed 
rage.  "  Sair,  I  vill  go  no  where,  I  vill  stay  here  so  long, 
by  gar,  as — as — as  I  please,  sair  !" 

"  Are  you  aware,  sir,"  interposed  the  legal  gentleman, 


"DON'T  KNOW  YOU,  SIR!"  217 

"  that  you  are  rendering  gross  and  offensive,  malicious  and 
libellous,  scandalous  and  burglarious  language  to  this  gen 
tleman,  in  his  own  domicile,  with  malice  prepense  and  afore 
thought,  and  a " 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  pooh!  for  you,  sair  I"  testily  replied  the 
Frenchman. 

"  Pooh  ?  To  me,  sir  ?  Me,  sir  ?»  bullyingly  echoed 
Blackstone. 

"Yes,  sair — pooh — pooh!  von  geese,  sairl" 

It  were  vain  to  try  to  depict  the  rage  of  wounded  pride, 
the  insolence  of  a  travelling  barber  had  stirred  up  in  the 
very  face  of  the  man  of  law,  logic,  and  legal  lore.  He 
swelled  up,  blowed  and  strutted  about  like  a  miffed  gobbler 
in  a  barn  yard !  He  tried  to  cork  down  his  rage,  but  it 
bursted  forth — 

"You — you — you  infernal  old  frog-eating,  soap  and 
lather,  you — you — you  smoke-dried,  one-eyed,*  poor  old 
wretch,  you,  if  it  wasn't  for  pity's  sake,  I'd  have  you  taken 
up  and  put  in  the  county  jail,  for  vagrancy,  I  would,  you 
poverty-stricken  old  rascal !" 

"Jacob!"  bawled  the  landlord,  to  his  sub.,  "bring  out 
der  ole  boss  again,  pefore  he  die  mit  de  crows,  in  mine  sta 
ble  ;  now,  you  ole  fool,  you  shall  go  vay  pout  your  bishenish 
mit  nossin  to  eat,  mit  yer  hoss  too  I"  said  the  landlord,  with 
an  evident  rush  of  blood  and  beer  to  his  head  ! 

"  Oh,  veri  well,"  patiently  answered  the  old  Frenchman, 
"  veri  well,  sair,  I  sal  go — but," — shaking  his  finger  very 
significantly  at  the  landlord  and  lawyer,  "I  com'  back  to 
morrow  morning,  I  buy  dis  prop-er-tee  ;  you,  sir,  sal  make 
de  deed  in  my  name — I  kick  yqu  out,  sair,  (to  the  land 
lord,)  and  to  you  (the  lawyer),  I  sal  like  de  goose.  Booh  !" 

With  this,  the  poor  old  Frenchman  started  for  his  gig, 
amid  the  "  Haw  I  haw  !  haw  !  and  ha  1  ha  I  he  !  he  !" 

*  Girard,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  but  one  eye.  With  that,  how 
ever,  ho  saw  as  much  as  many  do  with  a  full  pair  of  eyes. 


218  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

of  the  landlord  and  lawyer.  "  That  for  you,"  said  the 
Frenchman,  as  he  gave  the  surly  Dutchman-hostler  a  real 
half-dollar,  took  the  dirty  "  ribbons"  and  drove  off.  Now, 
the  farmer,  one  of  the  three  spectators  present,  had  quietly 
watched  the  proceedings,  and  being  gifted  with  enough  in 
sight  into  human  nature  to  see  something  more  than  "an 
old  French  barber"  in  the  person  and  manner  of  the  tra 
veller  ;  and,  moreover,  being  interested  in  the  Tavern  pro 
perty,  followed  the  Frenchman  ;  overtaking  him,  he  at  once 
offered  him  the  hospitalities  of  his  domicile,  not  far  distant, 
where  the  traveller  passed  a  most  comfortable  night,  and 
where  his  host  found  out  that  he  was  entertaining  no  less  a 
pecuniary  miracle  of  his  time — than  Stephen  Girard. 

Early  next  morning,  old  Stephy,  in  his  old  and  shady 
gig,  accompanied  by  his  entertainer,  rode  over  to  the  two 
owners  of  the  Tavern  property,  and  with  them  sought  the 
lawyer,  the  deeds  were  made  out,  the  old  Frenchman  drew 
on  his  own  Bank  for  the  $13,000,  gave  the  farmer  a  ten 
years'  lease  upon  the  place,  paid  the  lawyer  for  his  trouble, 
and  as  that  worthy  accompanied  the  millionaire  to  the  door, 
and  was  very  obsequiously  bowing  him  out,  old  Stephy 
turned  around  on  the  steps,  and  looking  sharp — with  his  one 
eye  upon  the  lawyer,  says  he — 

"  Sair  !  Pooh  1  pooh  ! — Booh  /"  off  he  rode  for  the 
Tavern,  where  he  and  the  landlord  had  a  haze,  the  landlord 
was  notified  to  leave,  short  metre  ;  and  being  fully  revenged 
for  the  insult  paid  his  millions,  old  Stephen  Girard,  the 
great  Philadelphia  financier,  rode  back  to  where  he  was 
better  used  for  his  money,  and  evidently  better  satisfied  than 
ever,  that  money  is  mighty  when  brought  to  bear  upon  an 
object  1 


CirtraBljcntorg  <S$g 


WE  have  been,  frequently,  much  amused  with  the 
manoeuvring  of  some  folks  in  trade.  It's  not  your 
cute  folks,  who  screw,  twist  and  twirl  over  a  smooth  four- 
pence,  or  skin  a  flea  for  its  hide  and  tallow,  and  spoil  a  knife 
that  cost  a  shilling, — that  come  out  first  best  in  the  long 
run.  Some  folks  have  a  weakness  for  beating  down  shop 
keepers,  or  anybody  else  they  deal  with,  and  so  far  have  we 
seen  this  infirmity  carried,  that  we  candidly  believe  we've 
known  persons  that  would  not  stop  short  of  cheapening 
the  passage  to  kingdom  come,  if  they  thought  a  dollar  and 
two  cents  might  be  saved  in  the  fare  !  Now  the  rationale 
of  the  matter  is  this : — as  soon  as  persons  establish  a  repu 
tation  for  meanness — beating  down  folks,  they  fall  victims 
to  all  sorts  of  shaves  and  short  commons,  and  have  the  fine 
Saxony  drawn  over  their  eyes — from  the  nose  to  the  occi 
put ;  they  get  the  meanest  "bargains,"  offals,  &c.,  that 
others  would  hardly  have,  even  at  a  heavy  discount.  Then 
some  folks  are  so  wonderful  sharp,  too,  that  we  wonder 
their  very  shadow  does  not  often  cut  somebody.  A  friend 
of  ours  went  to  buy  his  wife  a  pair  of  gaiters  ;  he  brought 
them  home  ;  she  found  all  manner  of  fault  with  them ; 
among  other  drawbacks,  she  declared  that  for  the  price  her 
better  half  had  given  for  the  gaiters,  she  could  have  got 
the  best  article  in  Waxend's  entire  shop  !  He  said  she 
had  better  take  them  back  and  try.  So  she  did,  and  poor 
Mr.  Waxend  had  an  hour  of  his  precious  time  used  up  by 
the  lady's  attempt  to  get  a  more  expensive  pair  of  gaiters 
at  a  less  price  than  those  purchased  by  her  husband.  Wax- 
end  saw  how  matters  stood,  so  he  consented  to  adopt  the 

(219) 


220  HUMORS   OP  FALCONBRIDGE. 

maxim  of — when  Greek  meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tug 
of  war  ! 

"  Now,  marm,"  said  he,  "here  is  a  pair  of  gaiters  I  have 
made  for  Mrs.  Heavy  purse  ;  they  are  just  your  fit,  most  ex 
pensive  material,  the  best  article  in  the  shop  ;  Mrs.  Heavy- 
purse  will  not  expect  them  for  a  few  days,  and  rather  than 
you  should  be  disappointed,  I  will  let  you  have  them  for 
the  same  price  your  husband  paid  for  those  common  ones  1" 

Of  course  Mrs.  took  them,  went  home  in  great 

glee,  and  told  her  better  half  she'd  never  trust  him  to  go 
shopping  for  her  again — for  they  always  cheated  him. 
When  the  husband  came  to  scrutinize  his  wife's  bargain, 
lo  !  he  detected  the  self-same  gaiters — merely  with  a  differ 
ent  quality  of  lacings  in  them  !  He,  like  a  philosopher, 
grinned  and  said  nothing.  That  illustrates  one  phase  in 
the  character  of  some  people  who  "go  it  blind"  on  "bar 
gains  ;"  and  now,  for  the  pith  of  our  story — the  way  some 
folks  have  of  going  round  "Robin  Hood's  barn"  to  come 
at  a  thing. 

The  other  day  we  stopped  into  a  friend's  store  to  see  how 
he  was  getting  along,  and  presently  in  came  a  rural-district- 
looking  customer. 

"  How'd  do  ?"  says  he,  to  the  storekeeper,  who  was 
busy,  keeping  the  stove  warm. 

"Pretty  well ;  how  is  it  with  you  ?" 

"Well,  so,  so  ;  how's  all  the  folks  ?" 

"  Middling — middling,  sir.     How's  all  your  folks  ?" 

"  Tolerable — yes,  tolerable,"  says  the  rural  gent.  "  How's 
trade  ?"  he  ventured  to  inquire. 

"  Dull,  ray-ther  dull,"  responded  the  storekeeper.  "  Come 
take  a  seat  by  the  stove,  Mr.  Smallpotatoes." 

"Thank  you,  I  guess  not,"  says  the  ruralite.  "Your 
folks  are  all  stirring,  eh  ?"  he  added. 

"  Yes,  stirring  around  a  little,  sir.     How's  your  mother 


A   CIRCUMLOCUTORY   EGG    PEDLER.  221 

got  ?"  the  storekeeper  inquired,  for  it  appeared  he  knew 
the  man. 

"  Poorly,  dreadful  poorly,  yet,"  was  the  reply.  "  Cold 
weather,  you  see,  sort  o'  sets  the  old  lady  back." 

"I  suppose  so,"  responded  our  friend;  and  here,  think's 
we,  if  there  is  anything  important  or  business  like  on  the 
man's  mind,  he  must  be  near  to  its  focus.  But  he  started 
again — 

"  Ain't  goin'  to  Californy,  then,  are  you  ?"  says  Mr. 
Smallpotatoes. 

"Guess  not,"  said  our  friend.  "  You  talked  of  going,  I 
believe  ?" 

"  Well,  ye-e-e-s,  I  did  think  of  it,"  said  the  rural  gent; 
"  I  did  think  of  it  last  fall,  but  I  kind  o'  gin  it  up." 

Here  another  hiatus  occurred ;  the  rural  gent  walked 
around,  viewed  the  goods  and  chattels  for  some  minutes ; 
then  says  he — 

"  Guess  I'll  be  movin',"  and  of  course  that  called  forth 
from  our  friend  the  venerated  expression — 

"  What's  your  hurry  ?" 

"  Well,  nothing  'special.  Plaguy  cold  winter  we've 
got !" 

"  That's  a  fact,"  answered  the  storekeeper.  "  How's 
sleighing  out  your  way — good  ?" 

"  First  rate  ;  I  guess  the  folks  have  had  enough  of  it, 
this  winter,  by  jolly.  I  hev,  any  how,"  says  the  rural  gent. 
"  Trade's  dull,  eh  ?" 

"  Very — very  slack." 

"  Dullest  time  of  the  year,  I  reckon,  ain't  it  ?" 

"Pretty  much  so,  indeed,"  says  the  storekeeper. 

"I  don't  see's  Californy  goold  gets  much  plentier,  or 
business  much  better,  nowhere." 

To  this  bit  of  cogent  reason  our  friend  replied — 

"  Not  much— that's  a  fact." 


222  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  I  'spect  there's  a  good  deal  of  humbug  about  the 
Californy  goold  mines,  don't  you  ?" 

"  The  wealth  of  the  country  or  the  ease  of  coming  at  it," 
said  the  storekeeper,  "is  no  doubt  exaggerated  some." 

"  That's  my  opinion  on't  too,"  said  the  agriculturist. 
"  Some  make  money  out  there,  and  then  agin  some  don't ; 
I  reckon  more  don't  than  does."  To  this  bright  inference 
the  storekeeper  ventured  to  say — 

"  1  think  it's  highly  probable." 

11  All  your  folks  are  lively,  eh  ?"  inquired  Smallpotatoes. 

"Pretty  much  so,"  said  the  storekeeper;  "troubled  a 
little  with  influenza,  colds,  &c.  ;  nothing  serious,  however." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it." 

"All  your  folks  are  well,  I  believe  you  said  ?"  the  store 
keeper,  in  apparent  solicitude,  inquired,  to  be  reassured 
of  the  fact. 

"  Ye-e-e-s,  exceptin'  the  old  lady." 

Another  pause ;  we  began  to  feel  convinced  there  was 
speculation  in  the  rural  gent's  "  eyes,"  and  just  for  the  fun 
of  the  thing — as  we  "  were  up"  to  such  dodges — we  deter 
mined  to  hang  on  and  see  how  he  come  out. 

"Well,  I  declare,  I  must  be  goin' !"  suddenly  said  the 
rural  gent,  and  actually  made  five  steps  towards  the  handle 
of  the  door. 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  echoed  the  storekeeper.  "  When 
did  you  come  in  town  ?" 

"  I  come  in  this  mornin'." 

"  Any  of  the  folks  in  with  you  ?" 

"  No  ;  my  wife  did  want  to  come  in,  but  concluded  it  was 
too  cold ;  'spected  some  of  your  folks  out  to  see  us  durin' 
this  good  sleighing — why  didn't  you  come  ?" 

"Couldn't  very  well  spare  time,"  said  the  storekeeper. 

"Well,  we'd  been  glad  to  see  you,  and  if  you  get  time, 
and  the  sleighin'  holds  out,  you  must  come  and  see  us." 

"  I  may. — I  can't  promise  for  certain." 


JOLLY   OLD   TIMES.  223 

Now  another  pause  took  place,  and  thinks  we— the  cli 
max  has  come,  surely,  after  all  that  small  talk.  The  country 
gent  walked  deliberately  to  the  door ;  he  actually  took  hold 
of  the  knob. 

"  You  off?"  says  the  storekeeper. 

"  B'lieve  I'll  be  off" — opening  the  door,  then  rushes 
back  again — semi-excited  by  the  force  of  some  pent  up 

idea,  says  the  rural  gent — "0  !  Mr. ,  don't  you  want 

to  buy  some  good  fresh  eggs  ?" 

"Eggs  ?  Yes,  I  do  ;  been  looking  all  around  for  some 
fresh  eggs ;  how  many  have  you  ?" 

"  Five  dozen  ;  thought  you'd  want  some  ;  so  I  come  right 
in  to  see !" 

We  nearly  catapillered  !  After  all  this  circumlocution, 
the  man  came  to  the  pint,  and — sold  his  eggs  in  two  min 
utes  I 


lolls 

EITHER  mankind  or  his  constitution  has  changed  since 
"  the  good  old  times,"  for  we  read  in  an  old  medicine  book, 
that  bleeding  at  the  nose,  and  cramp,  could  be  effectually 
prevented  by  wearing  a  dried  toad  in  a  bag  at  the  pit  of 
the  stomach ;  while  for  rheumatism  and  consumption,  a 
snake  skin  worn  in  the  crown  of  your  hat,  was  a  sovereign 
remedy  !  Dried  toads  and  snake  skins  are  quite  out  of  use 
around  these  settlements,  and  we  think  the  Esculapius  who 
would  recommend  such  nostrums,  would  be  looked  upon  as 
a  poor  devil  with  a  fissure  in  his  cranium,  liable  to  cause  his 
brains  to  become  weather-beaten  !  We  remember  hearing  of 
a  learned  old  cuffy,  who  lived  down  "  dar"  near  Tallahassee, 
who  invariably  recommended  cayenne  pepper  in  the  eye  to 
cure  the  toothache  !  Had  this  venerable  old  colored  gem'n 
lived  200  years  ago,  he  would  doubtless  have  created  a 
sensation  in  the  medical  circles  ! 


IN  nearly  all  yarns  or  plays  in  which  Yankees  figure, 
they  are  supposed  to  be  "a  leetle  teu  darn'd  ceute"  for 
almost  any  body  else,  creating  a  heap  of  fun,  and  coming 
out  clean  ahead  ;  but  that  even  Connecticut  Yankees — the 
cutest  and  all  firedest  tight  critters  on  the  face  of  the  yearth, 
when  money  or  trade's  in  the  question — are  "  done"  now  and 
then,  upon  the  most  scientific  principles,  we  are  going  to 
prove. 

It  is  generally  known,  in  the  newspaper  world,  that  two 
or  three  Eastern  men,  a  few  years  ago,  started  a  paper  in 
Philadelphia,  upon  the  penny  principle,  and  have  since 
been  rewarded  as  they  deserved.  They  were,  and  are, 
men  of  great  enterprise  and  liberality,  as  far  as  their 
business  is  concerned,  and  thereby  they  got  ahead  of  all 
competition,  and  made  their  pile.  The  proprietors  were 
always  "fly"  for  any  new  dodge,  by  which  they  could  keep 
the  lead  of  things,  and  monopolize  the  news  market.  The 
Telegraph  had  not  "turned  up"  in  the  day  of  which  we 
write — the  mails,  and,  now  and  then,  express  horse  lines, 
were  the  media  through  which  Great  Excitements!  Alarm 
ing  Events  !  !  Great  Fires  and  Awful  Calamities  !  !  were 
come  at.  One  morning,  as  one  of  these  gentlemen  was 
sitting  in  his  office,  a  long,  lank  genius,  with  a  visage  as 
hatchet-faced  and  keen  as  any  Connecticut  Yankee's  on 
record,  came  in,  and  inquired  of  one  of  the  clerks  for 
the  proprietors  of  that  institution.  Being  pointed  out, 
the  thin  man  made  a  lean  towards  him.  After  getting 
close  up,  and  twisting  and  screwing  around  his  head  to  see 
that  nobody  was  listening  or  looking,  the  lean  man  sat 
(224) 


THE   PIGEON   EXPRESS   MAN.  225 

down  very  gingerly  upon  the  extreme  verge  of  a  chair,  and 
leaning  forward  until  his  razor-made  nose  almost  touched 
that  of  the  publisher,  in  a  low,  nasal,  anxious  tone,  says  he, 

"  Air  yeou  one  of  the  publishers  of  this  paper  ?" 

"  I  am,  sir." 

"Oh,  yeou,  sir!"  said  the  visitor,  again  looking  suspi 
ciously  around  and  about  him. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  the  Pigeon  Express?"  he 
continued. 

"  The  Pigeon  Express  ?"  echoed  the  publisher. 

"  Ya-a-s.  Carrier  pigeons — letters  to  their  1-e-g-s  and 
newspapers  under  their  wings — trained  to  fly  any  where 
you  warnt  'em." 

"Carrier  Pigeons,"  mused  the  publisher — "Carrier — 
pigeons  trained  to  carry  billets — bulletins  and — " 

"  Go  frurn  fifty  to  a  hundred  miles  an  hour  1"  chimed  in 
the  stranger. 

"  True,  so  they  say,  very  true,"  continued  the  publisher, 
musingly. 

"  Elegant  things  for  gettin'  or  sendin'  noos  head  of  every 
body  else." 

"Precisely:  that's  a  fact,  that's  a  fact,"  the  other  re 
sponded,  rising  from  his  chair  and  pacing  the  floor,  as 
though  rather  and  decidedly  taken  by  the  novelty  and  fea 
sibility  of  the  operation. 

"  You'd  have  'em  all,  Mister,  dead  as  mutton,  by  a  Pi 
geon  Express." 

"  I  like  the  idea ;  good,  first  rate  1" 

"  Can't  be  beat,  noheow  !"  said  the  stranger. 

"  But  what  would  it  cost  ?" 

"  Two  hundred  dollars,  and  a  small  wagon,  to  begin  on." 

"A  small  wagon  ?" 

"Ya-a-s.  Yeou  see,  Mister,  the  birds  haff  to  be  trained 
to  fly  from  one  pint  to  another  !" 

"Yes;  well?" 
14 


22(3  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Wa-a-11,  yeou  see  the  birds  are  put  in  a  box,  on  the 
top  of  the  bildin',  for  a  spell,  tea  git  the  hang  of  things, 
and  so  on  I" 

"Yes,  very  well;  go  on." 

"  Then  the  birds  are  put  in  a  cage,  the  trainer  takes  'em 
into  his  wagon — ten  miles  at  first — throws  'em  up,  and  the 
birds  go  to  the  bildin'.  Next  day  fifteen  miles,  and  so  forth  ; 
yeou  see  ?" 

"Perfectly;  I  understand;  now,  where  can  these  birds  be 
had  ?" 

Putting  his  thin  lips  close  to  the  publisher's  opening 
ears,  in  a  low,  long  way,  says  the  stranger — 

"  I've  got  'em!     R-a-l-e  Persian  birds — be-e-utis  !" 

"  You  understand  training  them  ?"  says  the  anxious  pub 
lisher. 

"Like  a  book,"  the  stranger  responded. 

"Where  are  the  birds  ?"  the  publisher  inquired. 

"I've  got  'em  down  to  the  tavern,  where  I'm  stoppin'." 

"  Bring  them  up  ;  let  me  see  them  ;  let  me  see  them  !" 

"Certainly,  Mister,  of  course,"  responded  the  Pigeon  ex 
press  man,  leaving  the  presence  of  the  tickled-to-death  pub 
lisher,  who  paced  his  office  as  full  of  effervescence  us  a 
jimmyjohn  of  spruce  beer  in  dog  days. 

About  this  time  pigeons  were  being  trained,  and  in  a  few 
cases,  now  and  then,  really  did  carry  messages  for  lottery  ticket 
venders  in  Jersey  City,  to  Philadelphia,  Wilmington,  and  Bal 
timore  ;  but  these  exploits  rarely  paid  first  cost,  and  did  not 
amount  to  much,  although  some  noise  was  made  about  the 
wonderful  performance  of  certain  Carrier  Pigeons.  But 
the  paper  was  to  have  a  new  impulse — astonish  all  crea 
tion  and  the  rest  of  mankind,  by  Pigeon  Express.  The 
publisher's  partner  was  in  New  York,  fishing  for  novelties, 
and  he  determined  to  astonish  him,  on  his  return  home, 
by  the  bird  business!  A  coop  was  fixed  on  the  top  of  the 
"  bildin',"  as  the  great  inventor  of  the  express  had  sug- 


THE   PIGEON   EXPRESS    MAN.  227 

gested.  The  wagon  was  bought,  and,  with  two  hundred 
dollars  in  for  funds,  passed  over  to  the  pigeon  express  man, 
who,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  takes  the  birds  into  his 
wagon,  to  take  them  out  some  few  miles,  throw  them  up,  and 
the  publisher  and  a  confidential  friend  were  to  be  on  top 
of  the  "  bildin',"  looking  out  for  them. 

They  kept  looking ! — they  saw  something  werry  like  a 
whale,  but  a  good  deal  like  a  first-rate  bad  "Sell!"  The 
lapse  of  a  few  days  was  quite  sufficient  to  convince  the 
publisher  that  he  had  been  taken  in  and  done  for — regularly 
picked  up  and  done  for, — upon  the  most  approved  and 
scientific  principles.  Rather  than  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag, 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  pocket  the  shave  and  keep  shady, 
not  even  "letting  on  to  his  partner,"  who  in  the  course 
of  the  following  week  returned  from  Gotham,  evidently 
feeling  as  fine  as  silk,  about  something  or  other. 

"  Well,  what's  new  in  New  York — got  hold  of  any  thing 
rich  ?"  was  the  first  interrogatory. 

"  Hi-i-i-sh  !  close  the  door !"  was  the  reply,  indicating 
something  very  important  on  the  tapis. 

"  So;  my  dear  fellow,  I've  got  a  concern,  now,  that  will 
put  the  sixpennies  to  sleep  as  sound  as  rocks  I" 

"  No.     What  have  you  started  in  Gotham  ?" 

"Exactly.  If  you  don't  own  up  the  corn,  that  the  idea 
is  grand — immense — I'll  knock  under." 

"  Good  !  I'm  glad — particularly  glad  you've  found  some 
thing  new  and  startling,"  responded  the  other.  "  Well, 
what  is  it  ?" 

"  Great ! — wonderful ! — Carrier  Pigeons!" 

"What!    Pigeons?" 

"  Pigeons  /" 

"  You  don't  pretend  to  say  that — " 

"  Yes,  sir,  all  arranged — luckiest  fellows  alive,  we  are — " 

"Well,  but—" 

"Oh,  don't  be  uneasy — I  fixed  it." 


228  HUMORS   OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Well,  I'm  hanged  if  this  isn't  rich!"  muttered  his 
partner,  sticking  his  digits  into  his  trowserloons — biting  his 
lips  and  stamping  around. 

"  Rich  !  elegant  I  In  two  weeks  we'll  be  flying  our  birds 
and-—" 

"  Flying  I  Why,  do  you—" 

"  Ha  !  ha !  I  knew  I'd  astonish  you ;  Tom  insisted  on 
my  keeping  perfectly  mum,  until  things  were  in  regular 
working  order ;  he  then  set  the  boys  to  work — we  have 
large  cages  on  top  of  the  building — " 

"  Come  up  on  top  of  this  building,"  said  the  partner,  so 
lemnly.  "  There,  do  you  see  that  bundle  of  laths  and 
stuff?" 

"Why — why,  you  don't  pretend  to  say  that — " 

"I  do  exactly  ;  a  scamp  came  along  here  a  week  ago — 
talked  nothing  but  Carrier  Pigeons — Pigeon  Expresses — 
I  thought  I'd  surprise  you,  and — " 

"Well,  well— go  on." 

"  And  by  thunder  I  was  green  enough  to  give  the  fellow 
$200 — a  horse  and  wagon — " 

"Done!  done!"  roared  the  other,  without  waiting  for 
further  particulars — "$200  and  a  horse  and  wagon — just 
what  Tom  and  I  gave  the  scamp  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !" 

"  Haw  !  haw !  haw  !"  and  the  publishers  roared  under 
the  force  of  ihejoke. 

Whatever  became  of  the  pigeon  express  man  is  not  dis 
tinctly  known ;  but  he  is  supposed  to  have  given  up  the  bird 
business,  and  gone  into  the  manufacture  of  woolly  horses 
and  cod-liver  oil. 


Jipsons  (great  Dinner  |parijr. 

WELL,  you  must  do  it.'; 
"Do  it?" 

"Do  it,  sir,"  reiterated  the  lady  of  Jipson,  a  man  well 
enough  to  do  in  the  world,  chief  clerk  of  a  "  sugar  baker," 
and  receiving  his  twenty  hundred  dollars  a  year,  with  no 
perquisites,  however,  and — plenty  of  New  Hampshire  con 
tingencies,  (to  quote  our  beloved  man  of  the  million,  Theo 
dore  Parker,)  poor  relations. 

"But,  my  dear  Betsey,  do  you  know,  will  you  consider 
for  once,  that  to  do  a  thing  of  the  kind — to  splurge  out  like 
Tannersoil,  one  must  expect — at  least  I  do — to  sink  a  full 
quarter  of  my  salary,  for  the  current  year;  yes,  a  full 
quarter  ?" 

"  Oh  1  very  well,  if  you  are  going  to  live  up  here  (Jipson 
had  just  moved  up  above  "  Bleecker  street,") — and  bought 
your  carriage,  and  engaged " 

"  Two  extra  servant  girls,"  chimed  in  Jipson. 

"  And  a  groom,  sir,"  continued  Mrs.  J. 

"  And  gone  into  at  least  six  hundred  to  eight  hundred 
dollars  a  year  extra  expenses,  to — a " 

"  To  gratify  yourself,  and— a " 

"Your — a — a — your  vanity,  Madam,  you  should  have 
said,  my  dear." 

"Don't  talk  that  way  to  me — to  me — you  brute;  you 
know " 

"I  know  all  about  it,  my  dear." 

"  My  dear — bah !"  said  the  lady  ;  "  my  dear  !  save  that, 
Mr.  Jipson,  for  some  of  your — a — a " 

What  Mrs.  J.  might  have  said,  we  scarce  could  judge  j 

(229) 


230  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRLDGE. 

but  Jipson  just  then  put  in  a  "  rejoinder"  calculated  to 
prevent  the  nmpullaceous  tone  of  Mrs.  J.'s  remarks,  by 
saying,  in  a  very  humble  strain — 

"Mrs.  Jipson,  don't  make  an  ass  of  yourself :  we  are  too 
old  to  act  like  goslings,  and  too  well  acquainted,  I  hope, 
with  the  matters-of-fact  of  every-day  life,  to  quarrel  about 
things  beyond  our  reach  or  control." 

"If  you  talk  of  things  beyond  your  control,  Mr.  Jipson, 
I  mean  beyond  your  reach,  that  your  income  will  iiot  per 
mit  us  to  live  as  other  people  live " 

"  I  wouldn't  like  to,"  interposed  Jipson. 

"What  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Jipson. 

"  Live  like  other  people — that  is,  some  people,  Mrs. 
Jipson,  that  I  know  of." 

"  You  don't  suppose  Pm  going  to  bury  myself  and  my 
poor  girls  in  this  big  house,  and  have  those  servants  stand 
ing  about  me,  their  fingers  in  their  mouths,  with  nothing  to 
do  but " 

"  But  what  ?" 

"  But  cook,  and  worry,  and  slave,  and  keep  shut  up 
for  a " 

"For  what?" 

"For  a— a " 

But  Mrs.  J.  was  stuck.  Jipson  saw  that ;  he  divined 
what  a  point  Mrs.  J.  was  about  to,  but  could  not  consci 
entiously  make,  so  he  relieved  her  with — 

"  My  dear  Betsey,  it's  a  popular  fallacy,  an  exploded 
idea,  a  contemptible  humbug,  to  live  merely  for  your  neigh 
bors,  the  rabble  world  at  large.  Thousands  do  it,  my  dear, 
and  I've  no  objection  to  their  doing  it ;  it's  their  own  busi 
ness,  and  none  of  mine.  I  have  moved  up  town  because  I 
thought  it  would  be  more  pleasant ;  I  bought  a  modest 
kind  of  family  carriage  because  I  could  afford  it,  and  be 
lieved  it  would  add  to  our  recreations  and  health;  the  car 
riage  and  horses  required  care ;  I  engaged  a  man  to  attend 


JIPSON'S   GREAT   DINNER   PARTY.  231 

to  them,  fix  up  the  garden,  and  be  useful  generally,  and 
added  a  girl  or  two  to  your  domestic  departments,  in  order  to 
lighten  your  own  cares,  &c.  jSTow,  all  this,  my  dear  woman, 
you  ought  to  know,  rests  a  very  important  responsibility 
upon  my  shoulders,  health,  life,  and — two  thousand  dollars 
a  year,  and  if  you  imagine  it  compatible  with  common  sense, 
or  consonant  with  my  judgment,  to  make  an  ass  or  fool  of 
myself,  by  going  into  the  extravagances  and  torn-fooleries 
of  Tannersoil,  our  neighbor  over  the  way,  who  happens  for 
the  time  to  be  '  under  government,'  with  a  salary  of  nothing 
to  speak  of,  but  with  stealings  equal  to  those  of  a  successful 
freebooter,  you — you — you  have  placed  a — a  bad  estimate 
upon  my  common  sense,  Madam." 

With  this  flaring  burst  of  eloquence,  Jipson  seized  his 
hat,  gloves  and  cane,  and  soon  might  be  seen  an  elderly, 
natty,  well-shaved,  slightly-flushed  gentleman  taking  his 
seat  in  a  down  town  bound  bus,  en  route  for  the  sugar 
bakery  of  the  firm  of  Cutt,  Comeagain,  &  Co.  It  was 
evident,  however,  from  the  frequency  with  which  Jipson 
plied  his  knife  and  rubber  to  his  "  figgers"  of  the  day's 
accounts,  and  the  tremulousness  with  which  he  drove  the 
porcupine  quill,  that  Jipson  was  thinking  of  something 
else! 

"  Mr.  Jipson,  I  wish  you'd  square  up  that  account  of 
Look,  Sharp,  &  Co.,  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Cutt,  entering  the 
counting  room. 

"All  folly  !"  said  Jipson,  scratching  out  a  mistake  from 
his  day-book,  and  not  heeding  the  remark,  though  he  saw 
the  person  of  his  employer. 

"  Eh  ?"  was  the  ejaculation  of  Cutt, 

"All  folly!" 

"I  don't  understand  you,  sir!"  said  Cutt,  in  utter 
astonishment. 

"Oh!  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  poor  Jipson;  "I  beg 
pardon,  sir.  Engrossed  in  a  little  affair  of  my  own,  I  quite 


232  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

overlooked  your  observation.  I  will  attend  to  the  account 
of  Look,  Sharp,  &  Co.,  at  once,  sir ;"  and  while  Jipson  was 
at  it,  his  employer  went  out,  wondering  what  in  faith  could 
be  the  matter  with  Jipson,  a  man  whose  capacity  and  gen 
tlemanly  deportment  the  firm  had  tested  to  their  satisfaction 
for  many  years  previous.  The  little  incident  was  mentioned 
to  the  partner,  Comeagain.  The  firm  first  laughed,  then 
wondered  what  was  up  to  disturb  the  usual  equilibrium  of 
Jipson,  and  ended  by  hoping  he  hadn't  taken  to  drink  or 
nothing  ! 

11  Guess  I'd  better  do  it,"  soliloquizes  Jipson.  "  My  wife 
is  a  good  woman  enough,  but  like  most  women,  lets  her 
vanity  trip  up  her  common  sense,  now  and  then  ;  she  feels 
cut  down  to  know  that  Tannersoil's  folks  are  plunging  out 
with  dinners  and  evening  parties,  troops  of  company,  piano 
going,  and  bawling  away  their  new  fol-de-rol  music.  Yes, 
guess  I'll  do  it. 

11  Mrs.  Jipson  little  calculates  the  horrors — not  only  in  a 
pecuniary,  but  domestic  sense — that  these  dinners,  suppers 
and  parties  to  the  rag-tag  and  bobtail,  cost  many  honest- 
meaning  people,  who  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  them. 

"But,  I'll  do  it,  if  it  costs  me  the  whole  quarter's 
salary  !" 

A  few  days  were  sufficient  to  concoct  details  and  arrange 
the  programme.  When  Mrs.  Jipson  discovered,  as  she 
vainly  supposed,  the  prevalence  of  "better  sense"  on  the 
part  of  her  husband,  she  was  good  as  cranberry  tart,  and 
flew  around  in  the  best  of  humor,  to  hurry  up  the  event 
that  was  to  give  eclat  to  the  new  residence  and  family  of 
the  Jipsons,  slightly  dim  the  radiance  or  mushroom  glory 
of  the  Tannersoil  family,  and  create  a  commotion  generally 
— above  Bleecker  street ! 

Jipson  drew  on  his  employers,  for  a  quarter's  salary, 
The  draft  was  honored,  of  course,  but  it  led  to  some  specu 
lation  on  the  part  of  "  the  firm,"  as  to  what  Jipson  was  up 


JIPSON'S    GREAT   DINNER    PARTY. 

to,  and  whether  he  wasn't  getting  into  evil  habits,  and  de 
cidedly  bad  economy  in  his  old  age.  Jipson  talked,  Mrs. 
Jipson  talked.  Their  almost — in  fact,  Mrs.  J.,  like  most 
ambitious  mothers,  thought,  really — marriageable  daugh 
ters  dreamed  and  talked  dinner  parties  for  the  full  month, 
ere  the  great  event  of  their  lives  came  duly  off. 

One  of  the  seeming  difficulties  was  who  to  invite — who 
to  get  to  come,  and  where  to  get  them  !  Now,  originally, 
the  Jipsons  were  from  the  "Hills  of  New  Hampshire,  of 
poor  but  respectable"  birth.  Fifteen  years  in  the  great 
metropolis  had  not  created  a  very  extensive  acquaintance 
among  solid  folks ;  in  fact,  New  York  society  fluctuates, 
ebbs  and  flows  at  such  a  rate,  that  society — such  as  domestic 
people  might  recognize  as  unequivocally  genteel — is  hard  to 
fasten  to  or  find.  But  one  of  the  Miss  Jipsons  possessed 
an  acquaintance  with  a  Miss  Somebody  else,  whose  brother 
was  a  young  gentleman  of  very  distingue  air,  and  who  knew 
the  entire  "ropes"  of  fashionable  life,  and  people  who  en 
joyed  that  sort  of  existence  in  the  gay  metropolis. 

Mr.  Theophilus  Smith,  therefore,  was  eventually  engaged. 
It  was  his,  as  many  others'  vocation,  to  arrange  details, 
command  the  feast,  select  the  company,  and  control  the 
coming  event.  The  Jipsons  confined  their  invitations  to 
the  few,  very  few  genteel  of  the  family,  and  even  the  diminu- 
tiveness  of  the  number  invited  was  decimated  by  Mr.  Smith, 
who  was  permitted  to  review  the  parties  invited. 

Few  domiciles — of  civilian,  "above  Bleecker  st.," — were 
better  illuminated,  set  off  and  detailed  than  that  of  Jipson, 
on  the  evening  of  the  ever-memorable  dinner.  Smith  had 
volunteered  to  "  engage"  a  whole  set  of  silver  from  Tin- 
plate  &  Co.,  who  generously  offer  our  ambitious  citizens 
such  opportunities  to  splurge,  for  a  fair  consideration ; 
while  china,  porcelain,  a  dozen  colored  waiters  in  white 
aprons,  with  six  plethoric  fiddlers  and  tooters,  were  also  in 
Smith's  programme.  Jipson  at  first  was  puzzled  to  know 


234  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

where  he  could  find  volunteers  to  fill  two  dozen  chairs,  but 
when  night  came,  Mr.  Theophilus  Smith,  by  force  of  tactics 
truly  wonderful,  drummed  in  a  force  to  face  a  gross  of 
plates,  napkins  and  wine  glasses. 

Mrs.  Jipson  was  evidently  astonished,  the  Misses  J.  not 
a  little  vexed  at  the  "  raft"  of  elegant  ladies  present,  and 
the  independent  manner  in  which  they  monopolized  atten 
tion  and  made  themselves  at  home. 

Jipson  swore  inwardly,  and  looked  like  "a  sorry  man." 
Smith  was  at  home,  in  his  element ;  he  was  head  and  foot 
of  the  party.  Himself  and  friends  soon  led  and  ruled  the 
feast.  The  band  struck  up  ;  the  corks  flew,  the  wine  fizzed, 
the  ceilings  were  spattered,  and  the  walls  tattooed  with 
Burgundy,  Claret  and  Champagne  ! 

11  To  our  host !"  cries  Smith. 

"Yes — ah!  'ere's — ah  I  to  our  a — our  host!"  echoes 
another  swell,  already  insolently  "  corned." 

"  Where  the — a — where  is  our  worthy  host  ?"  says 
another  specimen  of  "  above  Bleecker  street"  genteel  so 
ciety.  "  I — a  say,  trot  out  your  host,  and  let's  give  the 
old  fellow  a  toast !" 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  b-wavo !  b-wavo  !"  exclaimed  a  dozen  shot-in- 
the-neck  bloods,  spilling  their  wine  over  the  carpets,  one 
another,  and  table  covers. 

"  This  is  intolerable  !"  gasps  poor  Jipson,  who  was  in 
the  act  of  being  kept  cool  by  his  wife,  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  Never  mind,  Jipson " 

"Ah  !  there's  the  old  fellaw  I"  cries  one  of  the  swells. 

"  I-ah— say,  Mister " 

"  Old  roostaw,  I  say " 

"  Gentlemen  !"  roars  Jipson,  rushing  forward,  elevating 
his  voice  and  fists. 

"  For  heaven's  sake !  Jipson,"  cries  the  wife, 

"Gentlemen,  or  bla'guarcte,  as  you  are." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  Jipson,  will  you  hear  me  ?"  imploringly  cries 
Mrs.  Jipson. 


JIPSON'S    GREAT    DINNER   PARTY.  235 

«  What — ah — are  you  at  ?     Does  he — ah " 

"  Yes,  what — ah — does  old  Jip  say  ?" 

"Who  the  deuce,  old  What's-your-name,  do  you  call 
gentlemen  ?"  chimes  in  a  third. 

"  Bla'guards  1"  roars  Jipson. 

"  Oh,  veri  well,  veri  well,  old  fellow,  we — ah — are — ah — 
to  blame  for — ah — patronizing  a  snob,"  continues  a  swell. 

"A  what?"  shouts  Jipson. 

"A  plebeian!" 

"A  codfish— ah " 

"Villains  !  scoundrels  !  bla'guards  !"  shouts  the  outraged 
Jipson,  rushing  at  the  intoxicated  swells,  and  hitting  right 
aud  left,  upsetting  chairs,  tables,  and  lamps. 

"  Murder  !"  cries  a  knocked  down  guest. 

"  E-e-e-e-e-e  !"  scream  the  ladies. 

"Don't!  E-e-e-e!  don't  kill  my  father!"  screams  the 
daughter. 

Chairs  and  hats  flew ;  the  negro  servants  and  Dutch 
fiddlers,  only  engaged  for  the  occasion,  taking  no  interest 
in  a  free  fight,  and  not  caring  two  cents  who  whipped,  laid 
back  and — 

"Yaw  I  ha!  ha!     De  lorM     Yaw!  ha!  ha!" 

Mrs.  Jipson  fainted  ;  ditto  two  others  of  the  family ;  the 
men  folks  (!)  began  to  travel ;  the  ladies  (!)  screamed ; 
called  for  their  hats,  shawls,  and  chaperones, — the  most  of  the 
latter,  however,  were  non  est,  or  too  well  "set  up,"  to  heed 
the  common  state  of  affairs. 

Jipson  finally  cleared  the  house.  Silence  reigned  within 
the  walls  for  a  week.  In  the  interim,  Mrs.  Jipson  and  the 
daughters  not  only  got  over  their  hysterics,  but  ideas  of 
gentility,  as  practised  "above  Bleecker  street."  It  took 
poor  Jipson  an  entire  year  to  recuperate  his  financial 
"  outs,"  while  it  took  the  whole  family  quite  as  long  to  get 
over^  their  grand  debut  as  followers  of  fashion  in  the  great 
metropolis. 


foolt  mit  far  Jjjtm  f ohitrs, 

DEACON  ,  who  resides  in  a  pleasant  village  in 
side  of  an  hour's  ride  upon  Fitchburg  road,  rejoices 
in  a  fondness  for  the  long-tailed  Crustacea,  vulgarly  known 
as  lobsters.  And,  from  messes  therewith  fulminated,  by 
some  of  our  professors  of  gastronomies  that  we  have  seen, 
we  do  not  attach  any  wonder  at  all  to  the  deacon's  pen 
chant  for  the  aforesaid  shell-fish.  The  deacon  had  been 
disappointed  several  times  by  assertions  of  the  lobster  mer 
chants,  who,  in  their  overwhelming  zeal  to  effect  a  sale,  had 
been  a  little  too  sanguine  of  the  precise  time  said  lobsters 
were  caught  and  boiled ;  hence,  after  lugging  home  a  ten 
pound  specimen  of  the  vasty  deep,  miles  out  into  the  quiet 
country,  the  deacon  was  often  sorely  vexed  to  find  the  lob 
ster  no  better  than  it  should  be  ! 

"Why  don't  you  get  them  alive,  deacon  ?"  said  a  friend, 
— "  get  them  alive  and  kicking,  deacon  ;  boil  them  your 
self ;  be  sure  of  their  freshness,  and  have  them  cooked  more 
carefully  and  properly." 

"Well  said,"  quoth  the  deacon  ;  "  so  I  can,  for  they  sell 
them,  I  observe,  near  the  depot, — right  out  of  the  boat. 
I'm  much  obliged  for  the  notion." 

The  next  visit  of  the  good  deacon  to  Boston, — as  he  was 
about  to  return  home,  he  goes  to  the  bridge  and  bargains 
for  two  live  lobsters,  fine,  active,  lusty-clawed  fellows,  alive 
and  kicking,  and  no  mistake  ! 

"But  what  will  I  do  with  them?"  says  the  deacon  to 
the  purveyor  of  the  cruslacea,  as  he  gazed  wistfully  upon 
the  two  sprawling,  ugly,  green  and  scratching  lobsters,  as 
they  lay  before  him  upon  the  planks  at  his  feet. 
(236) 


LOOK   OUT   FOR   THEM   LOBSTERS.  237 

"Do  with  'em?"  responded  the  lobster  merchant, — 
"why,  bile  'em  and  eat  'em  !  I  bet  you  a  dollar  you  never 
ate  better  lobsters  'n  them,  nohow,  mister  !" 

The   deacon    looked    anxiously   and   innocently   at   the 
speaker,  as  much  as  to  say — "  you  don't  say  so  ?" 
"  I  mean,  friend,  how  shall  I  get  them  home  ?" 
"0,"says  the  lobster  merchant,    "that's  easy  enough ; 
here,  Saul,"  says  he,  calling  up  a  frizzle-headed  lad  in  blue 
pants — sans  hat  or  boots,   and   but  one    gallows  to    his 
breeches,  "  here,  you,  light  upon  these  lobsters  and  carry 
'em  home  for  this  old  gentleman." 

"  Goodness,  bless  you,"  says  the  deacon  ;  "  why  friend,  I 
reside  ten  miles  out  in  the  country  !" 

"0,  the  blazes  you  do!"  says  the  lobster  merchant; 
"  well,  I  tell  you,  Saul  can  carry  'em  to  the  cars  for  you  in 
this  'ere  bag,  if  you're  goin'  out  ?" 

"  Truly,  he  can,"  quoth  the  deacon  ;  "  and  Saul  can  go 
right  along  with  me." 

The  lobsters  were  dashed  into  a  piece  of  Manilla  sack, 
thrown  across  the  shoulders  of  the  juvenile  Saul,  and  away 
they  went  at  the  heels  of  the  deacon,  to  the  depot ;  here 
Saul  dashed  down  the  "poor  creturs"  until  their  bones  or 
shells  rattled  most  piteously,  and  as  the  deacon  handed  a 
"  three  cent  piece"  to  Saul,  the  long  and  wicked  claw  of 
one  of  the  lobsters  protruded  out  of  the  bag — opened  and 
shut  with  a  clack,  that  made  the  deacon  shudder  ! 

"Those  fellows  are  plaguy  awkward  to  handle,  are  they 
not,  my  son  ?"  says  the  deacon. 

" Not  werry,"  says  the  boy;  "they  can't  bite,  cos  you 
see  they's  got  pegs  down  here — hallo  /"  As  Saul  poked  his 
hand  down  towards  the  big  claw  lying  partly  out  of  the 
open-mouthed  bag,  the  claw  opened,  aiid  clacked  at  his  fin 
gers,  ferocious  as  a  mad  dog. 

"  His  peg's  out,"  said  the  boy — "and  I  can't  fasten  it ; 
but  here's  a  chunk  of  twine;  tie  the  bag  and  they  can't  get 


238  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

out,  any  how,  and  you  kin  put  'em  into  yer  pot  right  out  of 
the  bag." 

"Yes,  yes,"  says  the  deacon  ;  "  I  guess  I  will  take  care 
of  them  ;  bring  them  here  ;  there,  just  place  the  bag  right 
in  under  my  seat;  so,  that  will  do." 

Presently  the  cars  began  to  fill  up,  as  the  minute  of  de 
parture  approached,  and  soon  every  seat  around  the  worthy 
deacon  was  occupied.  By-and-by,  "a  middle-aged  lady," 
iii  front  of  the  deacon,  began  to  fussle  about  and  twist 
around,  as  if  anxious  to  arrange  the  great  amplitude  of  her 
drapery,  and  look  after  something  "bothering"  her  feet. 
In  front  of  the  lady,  sat  a  sZafr-sided  genus  dandy,  fat  as  a 
match  and  quite  as  good  looking ;  between  his  legs  sat  a 
pale-face  dog,  with  a  flashing  collar  of  brass  and  tinsel, 
quite  as  gaudy  as  his  master's  neck-choker  ;  this  canine  gave 
an  awful — 

"  Ihk !  ow,  yow!  yow-oo — yow,  ook  !  yow  !  yow! 
YOW  !" 

"  Lor'  a  massy  !"  cries  the  woman  in  front  of  the  deacon, 
jumping  up,  and  making  a  desperate  splurge  to  get  up  on 
to  the  seats,  and  in  the  effort  upsetting  sundry  bundles  and 
parcels  around  her  ! 

"Yow-ook!  Yovr-ook!"  yelled  the  dog,  jumping  clear 
out  of  the  grasp  of  the  juvenile  Mantillini,  and  dashing 
himself  on  to  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  next  seat  oc 
cupants,  one  of  whom  was  a  sturdy  civilized  Irishman,  who 
made  "  no  bones"  in  grasping  the  sickly-looking  dog,  and 
to  the  horror  and  alarm  of  the  entire  female  party  present, 
he  sung  out : 

"  Whur-r-r  ye  about,  ye  brute  !     Is  the  divil  mad?" 

"Eee  !  Ee  !  0  dear  1  0  !  0  1"  cries  an  anxious  mo 
ther. 

"  0 !  O  !  O-o-o !  save  us  from  the  dog  1"  cries 
another. 

"  Whur-r-r-r  !  ye  divil!"  cries  the  Irish  gintilman,  pin- 


LOOK  OUT  FOR  THEM  LOBSTERS.       239 

ning  the  poor  dog*  down  between  the  seats,  with  a  force  that 
extracted  another  glorious  yell. 

"Ike  !  Ike  !  Ike  !  oo,  ow  !  ow  !  Ike  !  Ike  !  Ike  !" 

"Murder!  mur-r-r-der !"  bawls  another  victim  in  the 
rear  of  the  deacon,  leaping  up  in  his  seat,  and  rubbing  his 
leg  vigorously. 

"  What  on  airth's  loose  ?"  exclaims  one. 

"  Halloo  !  what's  that  ?"  cries  another,  hastily  vacating 
his  seat  and  crowding  towards  the  door. 

"  0  dear,  0  !  0  1"  anxiously  cries  a  delicate  young 
lady. 

"What?  who?  where?"  screamed  a  dozen  at  once. 

"  Good  conscience!"  exclaims  the  deacon,  as  he  dropped 
his  newspaper,  in  the  midst  of  the  din — noise  and  confu 
sion  ;  and  with  a  most  singular  and  spasmodic  effort  to 
dance  a  "Aiy/iland  fling,"  he  hustled  out  of  his  seat,  ex 
claiming  : 

"  Good  conscience,  I  really  believe  they're  out." 

"  Eh  ?     What — what's  out  ?"  cries  one. 

"  Snakes  1"  echoes  an  old  gentleman,  grasping  a  cane. 

"  Snappin'  turtles,  Mister  ?"  inquire  several. 

"  Snakes  !"  cried  a  dozen. 

"  Snappers  1"  echoes  a  like  quantity  of  the  dismayed. 

"  Snapper-r-r-r-rs !" 

"  Snake-e-e-es  !"     0  what  a  din  ! 

"  Halloo  !  here,  what's  all  this  ?  What's  the  matter  ?" 
says  the  conductor,  coming  to  the  rescue. 

"That  man's  got  snakes  in  the  car!"  roar  several  at 
once. 

"  And  snappin'  turtles,  too,  consarn  him  !"  says  one, 
while  all  eyes  were  directed,  tongues  wagging,  and  hands 
gesticulating  furiously  at  the  astonished  deacon. 

"  Take  care  of  them  !  Take  care  of  them !  I  believe 
I'm  bitten  clear  through  my  boot — catch  them,  Mr.  Swal 
low!"  cries  the  deacon. 


240  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Swallow  'em,  Mr.  Catcher  I"  echoes  the  frightened 
dandy. 

"What?  where?"  says  the  excited  conductor,  looking 
around. 

"  Here,  here,  in  under  these  seats,  sir, — my  lobsters, 
8i'r,"  says  the  deacon,  standing  aloof  to  let  the  conductor 
and  the  man  with  the  cane  get  at  the  reptiles,  as  the  latter 
insisted. 

"  Darn  'em,  are  they  only  lobsters  I" 

"  Pooh !  Lobsters  !"  says  young  Mantillini,  with  a 
mock  heroic  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  looking  fierce  as 
two  cents  1 

"Come  out  here  !"  says  the  conductor,  feeling  for  them. 

"  Take  care  1"  says  the  deacon,  "the  plaguy  things  have 
got  their  pins  out !" 

11  Why,  they  are  alive,  arid  crawling  around  ;  hear  the 
old  fellow, — take  care,  Mr.  Swaller — he's  cross  as  sin  !" 
says  the  man  with  the  cane — "  wasn't  that  a  snap  ?  Take 
care  I  You  got  him  ?"  that  indefatigable  assistant  con 
tinued,  rattling  his  tongue  and  cane. 

41  I've  got  them  !"  cries  the  conductor. 

"  Put  them  in  the  bag,  here,  sir,"  says  the  deacon. 

"  Take  them  out  of  this  car  !"  cries  everybody, 

"Plaguy  things,"  says  the  deacon.  "I  sha'n't  never  buy 
another  live  lobster!" 

Order  was  restored,  passengers  took  their  seats,  but 
when  young  Mantillini  looked  for  his  dog,  he  had  vamosed 
with  the  Irishman,  at  "the  last  stopping  place,"  in  his  ex 
citement,  leaving  a  quart  jug  of  whiskey  in  lieu  of  the 
dandy's  dog. 


at  full. 

WELL,   well,   drum   no   more  about  it,    for   mercy's 
sake  ;  if  you  must  go,  you  must  go,  that's  all." 

"  Yes,  just  like  you,  Fitzfaddle" — pettishly  reiterates  the 
lady  of  the  middle-aged  man  of  business;  "mention  any 
thing  that  would  be  gratifying  to  the  children — " 

"  The  children— umph  /" 

"  Yes,  the  children  ;  only  mention  taking  the  dear,  tied- 
up  souls  to,  to — to  the  Springs — " 

"  Haven't  they  been  to  Saratoga  ?  Didn't  I  spend  a  month 
of  my  precious  time  and  a  thousand  of  my  precious  dollars 
there,  four  years  ago,  to  be  physicked,  cheated,  robbed, 
worried,  starved,  and— laughed  at  ?"  Fitzfaddle  responds. 

"Or,  to  the  sea-side — "  continued  the  lady. 

"  Sea-side  !  good  conscience  !"  exclaims  Fitzfaddle  ;  "  my 
dear  Sook — " 

"Don't  call  me  Sook,  Fitzfaddle  ;  Sook!  I'm  not  in  the 
kitchen,  nor  of  the  kitchen,  you'll  please  remember,  Fitz 
faddle  !"  said  the  lady,  with  evident  feeling. 

"0,"  echoed  Fitz,  "God  bless  me,  Mrs.  Fitzfaddle, 
don't  be  so  rabid  ;  don't  be  foolish,  in  your  old  days  ;  my 
dear,  we've  spent  the  happiest  of  our  days  in  the  kitchen  ; 
when  we  were  first  married,  Susan,  when  our  whole  stock 
in  trade  consisted  of  five  ricketty  chairs " 

"  Well,  that's  enough  about  it — "  interposed  the  lady. 

"  A  plain  old  pine  breakfast  table—"  continued  Fitz. 

"  I'd  stop,  just  THERE—"  scowlingly  said  Mrs.  Fitz. 

"  My  father's  old  chest,  and  your  mother's  old  corner 
cupboard—"  persevered  the  indefatigable  monster. 
15  (241) 


242  HUMOUS    OF   FALCON2RIDGE. 

"  I'd  go  through  the  whole  inventory — "  angrily  cried 
Mrs.  Fitz — "  clean  down  to — " 

"  The  few  broken  pots,  pans,  and  dishes  we  had — " 

"  Don't  you — donH  you  feel  ashamed  of  yourself?"  ex 
claims  Mrs.  Fitz,  about  as  full  of  anger  as  she  could  well 
contain  ;  but  Fitz  keeps  the  even  tenor  of  his  way. 

11  Not  at  all,  ray  dear  ;  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  ever 
forget  a  jot  of  the  real  happiness  of  any  portion  of  my  life. 
When  you  and  I,  dear  Sook  (an  awful  scowl,  and  a  sudden 
change  of  her  position,  on  her  costly  rocking  chair.  Fitz 
looked  askance  at  Mrs.  Fitz,  and  proceeded) ;  when  you 
and  I,  Susaii,  lived  in  Dowdy's  little  eight  by  ten  'blue 
frame,'  down  in  Pigginsborough ;  not  a  yard  of  carpet,  or 
piece  of  mahogany,  or  silver,  or  silk,  or  satin,  or  flummery 
of  any  sort,  the  five  old  chairs — " 

"  Good  conscience  !  are  you  going  to  have  that  over 
again  ?"  cries  Mrs.  Fitz,  with  the  utmost  chagrin. 

"  The  old  white  pine  table—" 

Mrs.  Fitz  starts  in  horror. 

"  My  father's  old  chest,  and  your  mother's  old  corner 
cupboard  !" 

Mrs.  Fitz,  in  an  agony,  walks  the  floor  ! 

"  The  few  broken  or  cracked  pots,  pans  and  dishes,  we 
had—" 

Nature  quite  "  gin  eout" — the  exhausted  Mrs.  Fitzfaddle 
throws  herself  down  upon  the  sumptuous  conversazione, 
and  absorbs  her  grief  in  the  ample  folds  of  a  lace-wrought 
handkerchief  (bought  at  Warren's — cost  the  entire  profits 
of  ten  quintals  of  Fitzfaddle  &  Co.'s  A  No.  1  cod !),  while 
the  imperturbable  Fitz  drives  on — 

"  Your  mother's  old  cooking  stove,  Susan — the  time  and 
again,  Susan,  I've  sat  in  that  little  kitchen — " 

Mrs.  Fitzfaddle  shudders  all  over.  Each  reminiscence, 
so  dear  to  Fitzfaddle,  seems  a  dagger  to  Ijer. 

"  With  little  Nanny—" 


THE   FITZFADDLES   AT   HULL.  243 

"You — you  brute!  You — you  vulgar — you — you  Fitz- 
faddle.  Nanny!  to  call  your  daughter  N-Nanny  !" 

"  Nanny  !  why,  yes,  Nanny — "  says  the  matter-of-fact 
head  of  the  firm  of  Fitzfaddle  &  Co.  "I  believe  we  did 
intend  to  call  the  girl  Nancy  ;  we  did  call  her  Nanny,  Mrs. 
Fitzfaddle  ;  but,  like  all  the  rest,  by  your  innovations, 
things  have  kept  changing  no  better  fast.  I  believe  my 
soul  that  girl  has  had  five  changes  in  her  name  before  you 
concluded  it  was  up  to  the  highest  point  of  modern  respect 
ability.  From  Nancy  you  had  it  Nannette,  from  Nannette 
to  Ninna,  from  Ninna  to  Naomi,  and  finally  it  was  rested 
at  Anna  Antoinette  De  Orville  Fitzfaddle  !  Such  a  mess 
of  nonsense  to  handle  my  plain  name." 

"  Anna  Antoinette  De  Orville" — said  Mrs.  Fitz,  sud 
denly  rallying,  "  is  a  name,  only  made  plain  by  your  ugly 
and  countryfied  prefix.  De  Orville  is  a  name,"  said  the 
lady. 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "upon 
what  pretext,  Mrs.  Fitzfaddle,  you  lay  claim  to  such  a 
Frenchy  and  flighty  name  or  title  as  De  Orville  ?" 

"Wasn't  it  my  family  name,  you  brute  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Fitz. 

"  Ho  !  ho !  ho  !  Sook,  Sook,  Sook,"  says  Fitzfaddle. 

"  Sook  /"  almost  screams  Mrs.  Fitz. 

"  Yes,  Sook,  Sook  Scovill,  daughter  of  a  good  old-fash 
ioned,  patriotic  farmer — Timothy  Scovill,  of  Tanner's  Mills, 
in  the  county  of  Tuggs— down  East.  And  when  I  married 
Sook  (Mrs.  Fitz  jumped  up,  a  rustling  of  silk  is  heard— a 
door  slams,  and  the  old  gentleman  finishes  his  domestic 
narrative,  solus  /),  she  was  as  fine  a  gal  as  the  State  ever 
produced.  We  were  poor,  and  we  knew  it ;  wasn't  dis 
couraged  or  put  out,  on  the  account  of  our  poverty.  We 
started  in  the  world  square ;  happy  as  clams,  nothing  but 
what  was  useful  around  us  ;  it  is  a  happy  reflection  to  look 
back  upon  those  old  chairs,  pine  table,  my  father's  old  chest, 
and  Sook's  mother's  old  corner  cupboard — the  cracked  pots 


244  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

and  pans — the  old  stove — Sook  as  ruddy  and  bright  as  a 
full-blown  rose,  as  she  bent  over  the  hot  stove  in  our  parlor, 
dining  room,  and  kitchen — turning  her  slap-jacks,  frying, 
baking  and  boiling,  and  I  often  by  her  side,  with  our  first 
child,  -Js'anny,  on  my — " 

"  Well,  I  hope  by  this  time  you're  over  your  vulgar  Pig- 
ginsborough  recollections,  Fitzfaddle  !"  exclaims  Mrs.  Fitz, 
re-entering  the  parlor. 

"  I  was  just  concluding,  my  dear,  the  happy  time  when 
I  sat  and  read  to  you,  or  held  Nanny,  while  you — " 

"  Fitzfaddle,  for  goodness'  sake—" 

"  While  you — ruddy  and  bright,  my  dear,  as  the  full 
blown  rose,  bent  over  your  mother's  old  cook  stove — " 

"  Are  you  crazy,  Fitz,  or  do  you  want  to  craze  me  ?" 
cried  the  really  tried  woman. 

"  Turning  your  slap-jacks,"  continues  Fitz,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word. 

"  Fitzfaddle  !"  cries  Mrs.  Fitz,  in  the  most  sublimated 
paroxysm  of  pity  and  indignation,  but  Fitz  let  it  come. 

"  While  I  dandled  Nanny  on  my  knee!" 

A  pause  ensues  ;  Fitzfaddle,  in  contemplation  of  the  past, 
and  Mrs.  Fitz  fortifying  herself  for  the  opening  of  a  cam 
paign  to  come.  At  length,  after  a  deal  of  "  dicker,"  Fitz 
remembering  only  the  bad  dinners,  small  rooms,  large 
bills,  sick,  parboiled  state  of  the  children,  clash  and  clamor 
of  his  trips  to  the  Springs,  sea-side  and  mountain  resorts ; 
and  Mrs.  Fitz  dwelling  over  the  strong  opposition  (show 
and  extravagance)  she  had  run  against  the  many  ambitious 
shop-keepers'  wives,  tradesmen's,  lawyers'  and  doctors' 
daughters — Mrs.  Fitz  gained  her  point,  and  the  family, 
—Mrs.  Fitz,  the  two  now  marriageable  daughters — Anna 
Antoinette  De  Orville,  and  Eugenia  lleloise  De  Orville, 
and  Alexander  Montressor  De  Orville,  and  two  servants — 
start  in  style,  for  the  famed  city  of  Hull ! 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  season,  and  Fitzfaddle  had  se- 


THE   FITZFADDLES   AT   HULL.  245 

cured,  upon  accommodating  terms,  rooms  &c.,  of  Mrs.  Fitz- 
faddle's  own  choosing.  With  the  diplomacy  of  five  prime 
ministers,  and  with  all  the  pride,  pomp  and  circumstance  of 
a  fine-looking  woman  of  two-and-forty, — husband  rich,  and 
indulgent  at  that ;  armed  with  two  "  marriageable  daughters," 
you  may — if  at  all  familiar  with  life  at  a  "  watering-place,'' 
fancy  Mrs.  Fitzfaddle's  feelings,  and  perhaps,  also,  about 
a  third  of  the  swarth  she  cut.  The  first  evident  opposition 
Mrs.  Fitz  encountered,  was  from  the  wife  of  a  wine  mer 
chant.  This  lady  made  her  entree  at House,  with  a 

pair  of  bays  and  "body  servant,"  two  poodles,  and  an  im 
mensity  of  band  boxes,  patent  leather  trunks,  and — her 
husband.  The  first  day  Mrs.  Oldport  sat  at  table,  her  new 
style  of  dress,  and  her  European  jewels,  were  the  afternoon 
talk ;  but  at  tea,  the  Fitzfaddles  spread,  and  Mrs.  Oldport 
was  bedimmed,  easy ;  the  next  day,  however,  "  turned  up" 
an  artist's  wife  and  daughter,  whose  unique  elegance  of 
dress  and  proficiency  in  music  took  down  the  entire  col 
lection  !  Mrs.  Michael  Angelo  Smythe  and  daughter 
captivated  two  of .  Mrs.  Fitzfaddle's  "circle" — a  young 
naval  gent  and  a' quasi  Southern  planter,  much  to  her 
chagrin  and  Fitzfaddle's  pecuniary  suffering ;  for  next  eve 
ning  Mrs.  F.  got  up, — to  get  back  her  two  recruits — a 
grand  private  hop,  at  a  cost  of  $130 !  And  the  close  of 
the  week  brought  such  a  cloud  of  beauty,  jewels,  marriage 
able  daughters  and  ambitious  mothers,  wives,  &c.,  that 
Mrs.  Fitzfaddle  got  into  such  a  worry  with  her  diplomatic 
arrangements,  her  competitions,  stratagems, — her  fuss,  her 
jewels,  silks,  satins  and  feathers,  that  a  nervous-headache 
preceded  a  typhus  fever,  and  the  unfortunate  lady  was 
forced  to  retire  from  the  field  of  her  glory  at  the  end  of  the 
third  week,  entirely  prostrated  ;  and  poor  Jonas  Fitzfaddle 
out  of  pocket — more  or  less — five  hundred  dollars!  The 
last  we  heard  of  Fitzfaddle,  he  was  apostrophizing  the  good 
old  times  when  he  rejoiced  iii  five  old  chairs — cook  stove — 
slap-jacks,  &c. ! 


on  a  |I;itfonu! 


HUMAN  nature  doubtless  has  a  great  many  weak 
points,  and  no  few  bipeds  have  a  great  itching  after 
notoriety  and  fame.  Fame,  I  am  credibly  informed,  is  not 
unlike  a  greased  pig,  always  hard  chased,  but  too  eter 
nal  slippery  for  every  body  to  hold  on  to  !  I  have  never 
cared  a  tinker's  curse  for  glory  myself;  the  satisfaction  of 
getting  quietly  along,  while  in  pursuit  of  bread,  comfort 
and  knowledge,  has  sufficed  to  engross  my  individual  atten 
tion  ;  but  I've  often  "  had  my  joke"  by  observing  the  various 
grand  dashes  made  by  cords  of  folks,  from  snob  to  nob, 
patrician  to  plebeian,  in  their  gyrations  to  form  a  cir 
cle,  in  which  they  might  be  the  centre  pin  1  This  desire, 
or  feeling,  is  a  part  and  parcel  of  human  nature  ;  you  will 
observe  it  every  where  —  among  the  dusky  and  man-eating 
citizens  of  the  Fejee  Islands  —  the  dog-eating  population  of 
China  —  the  beef-eaters  of  England,  arid  their  descendants, 
ye  Yankoos  of  the  new  world  ;  all,  all  have  a  tendency  for 
lionization. 

This  very  innocent  pastime  finds  a  great  many  support 
ers,  too  ;  toadyism  is  the  main  prop  that  sustains  and  ex- 
alteth  the  vain  glory  of  man  ;  if  you  can  only  get  a  toady 
—the  more  the  better  —  you  can  the  sooner  and  firmer  fix 
your  digits  upon  the  greased  pig  of  fame  ;  but  as  thrift 
must  always  follow  fawning,  or  toadyism,  it  is  most  essen 
tially  necessary  that  you  be  possessed  of  a  greater  or  lesser 
quantity  of  the  goods  and  chattels  of  this  world,  or  some 
kind  of  tangible  effects,  to  grease  the  wheels  of  your  emol 
lient  supporters  ;  otherwise  you  will  soon  find  all  your  air- 
(246) 


PUTTING  ME  ON  A  PLATFORM  !        247 

built  castles,  dignity  and  glory,  dissolve  into  mere  gas,  and 
your  stern  in  the  gravel  immediately. 

Such  is  the  pursuit  of  glory,  and  such  its  supporters,  their 
gas  and  human  weakness.  I  have  said  that  I  never  sought 
distinction,  but  I  have  had  it  thrust  upon  me  more  than 
once,  and  the  last  effort  of  the  kind  was  so  particularly 
salubrious,  that  I  must  relate  to  you,  confidentially  of 
course,  how  it  came  about. 

When  I  first  came  to  Boston,  as  a  matter  of  course,  I 
spent  much  of  my  time  in  surveying  "  the  lions,"  dipping 
into  this,  and  peeping  into  that ;  promenading  the  Com 
mon  and  climbing  the  stupendous  stairway  of  Bunker  Hill ; 
ransacking  the  forts,  islands,  beautiful  Auburn,  &c.,  &c. 

Finally,  I  went  into  the  State  House,  but  as  this  nota 
ble  building  was  undergoing  some  repairs,  placards  were 
tacked  up  about  the  doors,  prohibiting  persons  from  strol 
ling  about  the  capitol.  The  attendant  was  very  polite,  and 
told  me,  and  several  others  desirous  to  see  the  building  in 
side,  that  if  we  called  in  the  course  of  a  few  day^,  we  could 
be  gratified,  but  for  the  present  no  one  but  those  engaged 
about  the  work,  were  allowed  to  enter.  I  persisted  so 
closely  in  my  desire  to  examine  the  interior,  while  on  the 
spot,  that  the  man,  when  the  rest  of  the  visitors  had  gone, 
relented,  and  I  was  not  only  allowed  to  see  what  I  should 
see,  but  he  toted  me  "round." 

We  sauntered  into  the  Assembly  Chamber,  surveyed  and 
learned  all  the  particulars  of  that,  peered  into  the  side- 
rooms,  closets,  &c,,  and  then  came  to  the  Senate  Chamber. 
This  you  know  is  something  finer  than  the  country  meeting 
house,  or  circus-looking  Assembly  Chamber,  where  the 
"  fresh-menj"  or  green  members  from  Hard-Scrabble,  Hull, 
Squantum,  etc., — incipient  Demostheneses,  and  sucking 
Ciceros,  first  tap  their  gasometers  "  in  the  haouse."  Here 
I  found  the  venerable  pictures  of  the  ancient  mugs,  who 
have  figured  as  Governors,  &c.,  of  the  commonwealth,  from 


24u  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

the  days  of  Puritan  Winthrop  to  the  ever-memorable  Mor 
ton,  who,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  was  really  electee 
Governor,  though  a  double-distilled  Democrat.  Bucklers, 
swords,  drums  and  muskets,  that  doubtless  rattled  and 
banged  away  upon  Bunker  Hill,  were  duly,  carefully  and 
critically  examined,  and  as  a  finale  to  my  debut  in  the  Sen 
ate,  I  mounted  the  Speaker's  stand,  and  spouted  about 
three  feet  of  Webster's  first  oration  at  Bunker  Hill.  To 
be  sure,  my  audience  was  small,  but  it  was  duly  attentive, 
and  as  I  waved  my  hands  aloft,  and  thumped  my  ribs,  after 
the  most  approved  system  of  patriotic  vehemence  of  the 
day,  he — my  audience — opened  his  mouth,  and  stretched  his 
eyes  to  the  size  of  dinner  plates,  at  my  prodigious  slaps  at 
eloquence  ;  the  very  ears  of  the  canvased  governors  seem 
ed  pricked  up,  and  I  descended  the  stand  big  as  Mogul, 
insinuated  "a  quarter"  into  the  palm  of  the  polite  attend 
ant,  informed  him  I  should  call  in  a  few  days  to  take  a  view 
from  the  top  of  the  dome,  &c.  He  bowed  and  I  took  my 
self  off. 

Several  days  afterwards  I  found  myself  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  State  House  ;  so,  thinks  I,  I'll  just  drop  in,  and  go  up  to 
the  top  of  the  dome  and  get  a  view  of  the  city  and  suburbs. 

My  chaperon  was  on  hand,  and  he  no  sooner  clapped 
eyes  upon  me,  than  he  pitched  into  all  manner  of  highfer- 
nooten  flub-dubs,  bowed  and  scraped,  and  regretted  that  the 
day  was  so  misty  and  dull,  as  I  would  not  be  enabled  to 
have  half  a  chance  to  get  a  view. 

"  I  wouldn't  try  it  to-day,  sir,"  said  he. 

"  What's  the  reason  ?"  asked  I. 

"  Oh,"  replied  he,  "  you'll  not  see  half  the  outline  of  the 
city  and  the  villages  around,  and  you'll  want  to  get  them  all 
down  distinct." 

"  Get  them  all  down  distinct  ?"  quoth  I. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  the  day  is  so  dull  and  cloudy  that  you'll 
not  see  half  the  prominent  buildings,  never  mind  the  whole 


PUTTING  ME  ON  A  PLATFORM  !        249 

of  the  former  and  not  so  easily  seen  houses.     You  intend 
taking  a  full  view,  don't  you,  sir  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  would  like  to,"  says  I,  partly  lost  to  con 
ceive  what  caused  such  a  sudden  and  unaccountable  ebulli 
tion  of  the  man's  great  interest  in  my  getting  "  a  first  rate 
notice"  of  matters  and  things  from  the  top  of  the  capitol  1 
But  up  I  went,  in  spite  of  my  attentive  friend's  fears  of  my 
not  getting  quite  so  clear  and  distinct  a  view  as  he  could 
wish.  Having  gratified  myself  with  such  a  view  as  the 
weather  arid  the  height  of  the  capitol  afforded  (and  in 
clear  weather  you  can  get  far  the  best  survey  of  Boston 
and  the  environs  from  the  top  of  the  State  House  than  from 
any  other  promontory  about),  I  descended  again.  At  the 
foot  of  the  stairway  my  assiduous  cicerone  again  beset  me, 
introduced  several  other  miscellaneous-looking  chaps  to  me, 
and,  in  short,  was  making  of  me,  why  or  wherefore  I  knew 
not,  quite  a  lion  ! 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  he,  "  what  do  you  think  of  it,  sir  ?  Could 
you  get  the  outline  ?" 

"Not  very  well,"  said  I,  "  but  the  view  is  very  fine." 

"  0,  yes,  sir,"  said  he;  "  but  as  soon  as  you  wish  to  be 
gin,  sir,  let  me  know,  and  I'll  lock  the  upper  doors  when 
you  go  up,  and  you'll  not  be  disturbed,  sir." 

"  Lock  the  doors  ?"  said  I,  in  some  amazement. 

"Yes,  sir,"  quoth  he,  "  but  it  would  be  best  to  come  as 
early  in  the  morning  as  possible,  or,  if  convenient,  before 
the  visitors  begin  to  come  up;  they'd  disturb  you,  you  know  !" 

"  Disturb  me!  Why,  I  don't  know  how  they  would  do 
that  ?" 

"Why,  sir,  when  Mr.  Smith — you  know  Mr.  Smith,  sir, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"  Why,  yes ;  the  name  strikes  me  as  someiohat  familiar  ; 
do  you  refer  to  John  Smith?11  I  observed,  beginning  to 
participate  in  the  joke,  which  began  to  develope  itself 
pretty  distinctly. 


250  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  believe  his  name  is  John — John  R.  Smith  ; 
he's  a  splendid  artist,  sir ;  his  sketch  or  panorama  is  a 
beauty  !  Sir  !  did  you  ever  see  his  panorama?" 

"  I  think  I  did,  in  New  York,"  I  replied. 

By  this  time  some  dozen  or  two  visitors  had  congregated 
around  us,  and  I  was  the  centre  of  a  considerable  circle, 
and  from  the  whispers,  and  pointing  of  fingers,  I  felt  duly 
sensible,  that,  great  or  small,  I  was  a  LION  !  Under  what 
auspices,  I  was  in  too  dense  a  fog  to  make  out;  to  me  it 
was  an  unaccountable  mist'ry. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  can  do,  sir,"  continued  my  toady  ; 
"  I  can  have  a  small  platform  erected,  outside  of  the  cupo 
la,  for  you,  to  place  your  designs  or  sketches  on,  and  you'll 
not  be  so  liable  to  be  disturbed.  Mr.  Smith,  he  had  a 
platform  made,  sir." 

I  beckoned  the  man  to  step  aside,  in  the  Senate  Chamber. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  I,  ''you  will  please  inform  me,  who  the 
devil  do  you  take  me  for  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  knew  who  you  were,  the  moment  you  came  in, 
sir,"  said  he,  with  a  very  knowing  leer  out  of  his  half- 
squinting  eyes. 

"  Did  you  ?  Well  then  I  must  certainly  give  you  credit 
for  devilish  keen  perception  ;  but,  if  it's  a  fair  question,"  I 
continued,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  fixing  a  platform  for  my 
designs  ?  You  don't  think  I'm  going  to  fly,  jump  or  deliver 
orations  from  the  cupola,  do  you  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't ;  but  you're  to  draw  a  grand  panorama  of 
Boston,  ain't  you  ?" 

"ME?" 

"  Yes,  you  ;  ain't  your  name  Mr.  Banvard  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes — I  understand — you've  found  me  out,  but 

keep  dark — mum's  the  word — you  understand  ?"  said  I, 

wirikingly. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I'll  fix  it  all  right ;  you'll  want  the  platform 

outside,  I  guess." 


THE   EXORBITANCY    OF   MEANNESS.  251 

"  Yes  ;  out  with  it,  and  keep  dark  until  I  come  ?" 
I  skeeted  down  them  steps  into  the  Common  to  let  off 
my  corked  up  risibilities.  — Whether  the  man  actually  did 
prepare  a  platform  for  my  designs,  or  whether  Banvard  ever 
went  to  take  his  designs  there,  I  am  unable  to  say,  as  I  went 
South  a  few  days  afterward,  and  did  not  return  for  some 
time. 


©je  tffffttetenrj  at 

FEW  extravaganzas  of  man  or  woman  lay  such  a  heavy 
stress  upon  the  pocket-book  or  purse  as  meanness.  This 
may  seem  paradoxical,  but  it's  nothing  of  the  kind.  How 
many  thousands  to  save  a  cent,  walk  a  mile  !  How  many  to 
cut  down  expenses,  cut  off  a  thousand  of  the  little  "  filling 
ins"  which  go  to  make  us  both  happy  and  healthy  I  Jones 
refused  to  let  his  little  boy  run  an  errand  for  Johnson,  and 
when  Jones's  house  was  in  a  blaze,  Johnson  forbid  him 
touching  his  water  to  put  it  out.  Smith  by  accident  ran 
his  wagon  afoul  of  Peppers's  cart,  Peppers  in  revenge  "  cut 
away"  at  Smith's  horse  ;  horse  ran  away,  broke  the  wagon, 
dislocated  Smith's  collar-bone  ;  a  suit  at  law  followed,  and 
Peppers  being  a  mighty  spunky,  as  well  as  a  powerfully 
mean  man,  fought  it  out  four  years,  and  finally  sunk  every 
cent  he  had  in  the  world  by  the  slight  transaction.  It  is  a 
first-rate  idea  to  be  economical,  but  the  man  who  sees  and 
feels,  and  smells  and  tastes,  entirely  through  his  pocket- 
book,  isn't  worth  cultivating  an  acquaintance  with.  Go 
in,  marry  money  if  you  can,  save  up  some,  but  don't  culti 
vate  meanness,  for  it  never  pays. 


gofon"  a  Sheriff. 


EX-HONORABLE  JOHN  BUCK,  once  the  "  repre 
sentative"  of  a  district  out  West,  a  lawyer  originally, 
and  finally  a  gentleman  at  large,  and  Jeremy  Diddler  gene 
rally,  took  up  his  quarters  in  Philadelphia,  years  ago,  and 
putting  himself  upon  his  dignity,  he  managed  for  a  time, 
sans  V  argent,  to  live  like  a  prince.  Buck  was  what  the 
world  would  call  a  devilish  clever  fellow  ;  he  was  something 
of  a  scholar,  with  the  smattering  of  a  gentleman  ;  good  at 
off-hand  dinner  table  oratory,  good  looking,  and  what 
never  fails  to  take  down  the  ladies,  he  wore  hair  enough 
about  his  countenance  to  establish  two  Italian  grand  dukes. 
Buck  was  "  an  awful  blower,"  but  possessed  common-sense 
enough  not  to  waste  his  gras-conade  —  ergo,  he  had  the  merit 
not  to  falsify  to  ye  ancient  falsifiers. 

The  Honorable  Mr.  Buck's  manner  of  living  not  being 
"  seconded"  by  a  corresponding  manner  of  means,  he  very 
frequently  ran  things  in  the  ground,  got  in  debt,  head  and 
heels.  The  Honorable  Mr.  B.  had  patronized  a  dealer  in 
Spanish  mantles,  corduroys  and  opera  vests,  to  the  amount 
of  some  two  hundred  dollars  ;  and,  very  naturally,  ye  fa 
bricator  of  said  cloth  appurtenances  for  ye  body,  got  mad 
towards  the  last,  and  threatened  "  the  Western  member" 
with  a  course  of  legal  sprouts,  unless  he  "  showed  cause," 
or  came  up  and  squared  the  yards.  As  Hon.  John  Buck 
had  had  frequent  invitations  to  pursue  such  courses,  and 
not  being  spiritually  or  personally  inclined  that  way,  he  let 
the  notice  slide. 

Shears,  the  tailor,  determined  to  put  the  Hon.  John 
through  ;  so  he  got  out  a  writ  of  the  savagest  kind  —  arson, 
(252) 


"TAKING   DOWN"    A    SHERIFF.  253 

burglary  and  false  pretence— and  a  deputy  sheriff  was  soon 
on  the  taps  to  smoke  the  Western  member  out  of  his  boots. 
Upon  inquiring  at  the  United  States  Hotel,  where  the  ho 
norable  gentleman  had  been  wont  to  "  put  up,"  they  found 
he  had  vacated  weeks  before  and  gone  to  Yohe's  Hotel. 
Thither,  the  next  day,  the  deputy  repaired,  but  old  Mother 
Yohe — rest  her  soul  ! — informed  the  officer  that  the  honor 
able  gentleman  had  stepped  out  one  morning,  in  a  hurry 
like,  and  forgot  to  pay  a  small  bill  ! 

John  was  next  traced  to  the  Marshall  House,  where  he 
had  left  his  mark  and  cleared  for  Sanderson's,  where  the 
indefatigable  tailor  and  his  terrier  of  the  law,  pursued  the 
member,  and  learned  that  he  had  gone  to  Washington  ! 

"  Done  !  by  Jeems  !"  cried  Shears. 

"Hold  on,"  says  the  deputy,  "hold  on;  he's  not  off; 
merely  a  dodge  to  get  away  from  this  house  ;  we'll  find  him. 
Wait  1" 

Shears  did  wait,  so  did  the  deputy  sheriff,  until  other 
bills,  amounting  to  a  good  round  sum,  were  lodged  at  the 
Sheriff's  office,  and  the  very  Sheriff  himself  took  it  in  hand 
to  nab  the  cidevant  M.  C.,  and  cause  him  to  suffer  a  little 
for  his  country  and  his  friends  ! 

Now,  it  so  chanced  that  Sheriff  F.,  who  was  a  politician 
of  popular  renown — a  good,  jolly  fellow — knew  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Buck,  having  had  "  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance" 
some  months  previous,  and  having  been  floored  in  a  poli 
tical  argument  with  the  "Western  member,"  was  inclined 
to  be  down  upon  him. 

"I'll  snake  him,  I'll  engage,"  says  Sheriff  F.,  as  he 
thrust  "  the  documents"  into  his  pocket  and  proceeded  to 
hunt  up  the  transgressor.  Accidentally,  as  it  were,  who 
should  the  Sheriff  meet,  turning  a  corner  into  the  grand 
troltoir,  Chestnut  street,  but  our  gallant  hero  of  ye  ballot- 
box  in  the  rural  districts,  once  upon  a  time  1 


254  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDQE. 

"Ah,  ha-a-a!  How  are  ye,  Sheriff?"  boisterously  ex 
claims  the  Ex-M.  C.,  as  familiarly  as  you  please. 

"Ah,  ha !  Mr.  Buck,"  says  the  Sheriff,  "  glad  (?)  to  see 
you." 

"Fine  day,  Sheriff?" 

"  Elegant,  sir,  prime,"  says  the  Sheriff. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Jigger's  speech  on  the  Clam 
trade  ?  Did  you  read  Mr.  Porkapog's  speech  on  the  wid 
ening  of  Jenkins's  ditch  ?" 

For  which  general  remarks  on  the  affairs  of  the  nation, 
Sheriff  E.  put  some  corresponding  replies,  and  so  they  pro 
ceeded  along  until  they  approached  a  well-known  dining 
saloon,  then  under  the  supervision  of  a  burly  Englishman  ; 
and,  as  it  was  about  the  time  people  dined,  and  the  Sheriff 
being  a  man  that  liked  a  fat  dinner  and  a  fine  bottle,  about 
as  well  as  any  body,  when  the  Hon.  Mr.  Buck  proposed 

"  What  say  you,  Sheriff,  to  a  dinner  and  a  bottle  of  old 

Sherry,  at ?   We  don't  often  meet  (?),  so  let's  sit 

down  and  have  a  quiet  talk  over  things." 

"Well,  Mr.  Buck,"  says  the  Sheriff,  "I  would  like  to, 
just  as  soon  as  not,  but  I've  got  a  disagreeable  bit  of  bu 
siness  with  you,  and  it  would  be  hardly  friendly  to  eat  your 
dinner  before  apprizing  you  of  the  fact,  sir." 

"  Ah  !  Sheriff,  what  is  it,  pray  ?"  says  the  somewhat 
alarmed  Diddler ;  "nothing  serious,  of  course  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  not  serious,  particularly;  only  a  writ,  Mr.  Buck  ; 
a  writ,  that's  all." 

"  For  my  arrest  ?" 

"  Your  arrest,  sir,  on  sight,"  says  the  Sheriff. 

"  The  deuce  !  What's  the  charge  I" 

"  Debt — false  pretence — swindling!" 

"Ha!  ha!  that  is  a  good  one!"  says  the  slight'y  cor 
nered  Ex-M.  C.  ;  "  well,  hang  it,  Sheriff,  don't  let  busi 
ness  spoil  our  digestion  ;  come,  let  us  dine,  and  then  I'm 


"TAKING   DOWN"    A   SHERIFF.  255 

ready  for  execution  !"  says  the  "Western  member,"  with 
well  a.ffected  gaiety. 

Stepping  into  a  private  room,  they  rang  the  bell,  and  a 
burly  waiter  appeared. 

"Now,  Mr.  F.,"  says  the  adroit  Ex-M.  C.,  "call  for  just 
what  you  like  ;  I  leave  it  to  you,  sir." 

"  Roast  ducks  ;  what  do  you  say,  Buck  ?" 

"Good." 

"  Oyster  sauce  and  lobster  salad  ?" 

"  Good,"  again  echoes  the  Ex-M.  C." 

"And  a —  Well,  waiter,  you  bring  some  of  the  best  side 
dishes  you  have,"  says  the  Sheriff. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  the  waiter,  disappearing  to  fill  the  order. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  drink,  Sheriff  ?"  asks  the  honor 
able  gent. 

"  Oh  !  ah,  yes  !  Waiter,  bring  us  a  bottle  of  Sherry  ;  you 
take  Sherry,  Buck  ?" 

"Yes,  I'll  go  Sherry." 

The  Sherry  was  brought,  and  partly  discussed  by  the 
time  the  dinner  was  spread. 

"They  keep  the  finest  Port  here  you  ever  tasted,"  says 
the  Diddler. 

"Do  they  !"  he  responds  ;  "well,  suppose  we  try  it  ?" 

A  bottle  of  old  Port  was  brought,  and  the  two  worthies 
sat  back  and  really  enjoyed  themselves  in  the  saloon  of  the 
sumptuously  kept  restaurant ;  they  then  drank  and  smoked, 
until  sated  nature  cried  enough,  and  the  Sheriff  began  to 
think  of  business. 

"  Suppose  we  top  off  with  a  fine  bottle  of  English  ale, 
Sheriff!" 

"  Well,  be  it  so  ;  and  then,  Buck,  we'll  have  to  proceed 
to  the  office." 

"Waiter,  bring  me  a  couple  of  bottles  of  your  English 
ale,"  says  the  Hon.  Mr.  Buck. 

"Yes,  sir." 


256  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"And  I'll  see  to  the  bill,  Sheriff,  while  the  waiter  brings 
the  ale,"  said  the  Ex-M.  C.,  leaving  the  room  "for  a  mo 
ment,"  to  speak  to  the  landlord. 

"  Landlord,"  says  the  Diddler,  "  do  you  know  that  gen 
tleman  with  whom  I've  dined  in  15  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  says  the  landlord. 

"Well,"  continues  Diddler,  "  I've  no  particular  ac 
quaintance  with  him  ;  he  invited  me  here  to  dine ;  I  sup 
pose  he  intends  to  pay  for  what  he  ordered,  but  (whisper 
ing)  you  hod  better  get  your  money  before  he  gets  out  of 
ikat  room!" 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  coming  that  are  dodge,  eh  ?  I'll  show  him  !" 
said  the  burly  landlord,  making  tracks  for  the  room,  from 
which  the  Sheriff  was  now  emerging,  to  look  after  his  pri 
soner. 

"  There's  for  the  ale,"  says  the  Diddler,  placing  half  a 
dollar  in  the  waiter's  hand  ;  "  I  ordered  that,  and  there's  for 
it."  So  saying,  he  vamosed. 

"  Say,  but  look  here,  Buck,  I  say,  hold  on  ;  I've  got  a 
writ,  and — " 

"  Hang  the  writ !  Pay  your  bill  like  a  gentleman,  and 
come  along!"  exclaimed  the  Ex-M.  C.,  making  himself 
scarce  ! 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  Sheriff  stated  his  "authority," 
and  innocence  in  the  pecuniary  affairs  of  the  dinner,  for  the 
waiter  swore  roundly  that  the  other  gentleman  had  paid  for 
all  he  ordered,  and  the  landlord,  who  could  not  be  con 
vinced  to  the  contrary,  swore  that  the  idea  was  to  gouge 
him,  which  couldn't  be  done,  and  before  the  Sheriff  got  off, 
he  had  his  wallet  depleted  of  five  dollars ;  and  he  not  only 
lost  his  prisoner,  but  lost  his  temper,  at  the  trick  played 
upon  him  by  the  Hon.  Jeremy  Diddler. 


ioknror  pfflra's  Jirsf  Coal  Jirt. 

IT  is  truly  astonishing,  that  the  inexhaustible  beds — 
mines  of  anthracite  coal,  lying  along  the  Schuylkill 
river  and  ridges,  valleys  and  mountains,  from  old  Berks 
county  to  the  mountains  of  Shamokin,  were  not  found  out 
and  applied  to  domestic  uses,  fully  fifty  years  before  they 
were  !  Coal  has  been  exhumed  from  the  earth,  and  burned 
in  forges  and  grates  in  Europe,  from  time  immemorial,  we 
think,  yet  we  distinctly  remember  when  a  few  canal  boats  only 
were  engaged  in  transporting  from  the  few  mines  that  were 
open  and  worked  along  the  Schuylkill — the  comparatively 
few  tons  of  anthracite  coal  consumed  in  Philadelphia,  ot 
sent  away.  As  far  back  as  1820,  we  believe,  there  was  bat 
little  if  any  coal  shipped  to  Philadelphia,  from  the  Schuyl 
kill  mines  at  all. 

Our  venerable  friend,  the  still  vivacious  and  clear-headed 
Col.  Davis,  of  Delaware,  gave  us,  a  few  years  ago,  a  rather 
amusing  account  of  the  first  successful  attempt  of  a  very 
distinguished  old  gentleman,  Gov.  Mifflin,  to  ignite  a  pile 
of  stone  coal.  The  date  of  the  transaction,  more's  the 
pity,  has  escaped  us,  but  the  facts  of  the  case  are  something 
after  this  fashion. 

Gov.  Mifflin,  of  Pennsylvania,  lived  and  owned  a  fine 
estate  in  Mifflin  county,  and  in  which  county  was  discov 
ered  from  time  to  time,  any  quantity  of  black  rock,  as  the 
farmers  commonly  called  the  then  unknown  anthracite.  Of 
course,  the  old  governor  knew  something  about  stone  coal, 
and  had  a  slight  inkling  of  its  character.  At  hours  of  lei 
sure,  the  governor  was  in  the  habit  of  experimenting  upon 
the  black  rocks  by  subjecting  them  to  wood  fire  upon  his 
16  (257) 


258  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

hearths  ;  but  the  hard,  almost  flint-like  anthracite  of  that 
region  resisted,  with  most  obdurate  pertinacity,  the  oft-re 
peated  attempts  of  the  governor  to  set  it  on  fire.  It 
finally  became  a  joke  among  the  neighboring  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  farmers,  and  others  of  the  vicinity,  that  Gov.  Mifflin 
was  studying  out  a  theory  to  set  his  hills  and  fields  on  fire, 
and  burn  out  the  obnoxious  black  rock  and  boulders.  But, 
despite  the  jibes  and  jokes  of  his  dogmatical  friends,  the 
old  governor  stuck  to  his  experiments,  and  the  result  pro 
duced,  as  most  generally  it  does  through  perseverance  and 
practice,  a  new  and  useful  fact,  or  principle. 

One  cold  and  wintry  day,  Gov.  Mifflin  was  cosily  perched 
up  in  his  easy-chair,  before  the  great  roaring,  blazing  hick 
ory  fire,  overhauling  ponderous  state  documents,  and  deeply 
engrossed  in  the  affairs  of  the  people,  when  his  eye  caught 
the  outline  of  a  big  black  rock  boulder  upon  the  mantle- 
piece  before  him — it  was  a  beautiful  specimen  of  variegated 
anthracite,  with  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  beaming  from 
its  lacquered  angles.  The  governor  thought  "a  heap"  of 
this  specimen  of  the  black  rock,  but  dropping  all  the  docu 
ments  and  State  papers  pell-mell  upon  the  floor,  he  seized 
the  piece  of  anthracite,  and  placing  it  carefully  upon  the 
blazing  cross-sticks  of  the  fire,  in  the  most  absorbed  man 
ner  watched  the  operation.  To  his  great  delight  the  black 
rock  was  soon  red  hot — he  called  for  his  servant  man,  a 
sable  son  of  Africa,  or  some  down  South  Congo — 

"  Isaac." 

"Yes,  sah,  I'se  heah,  sah." 

"  Isaac,  run  out  to  the  carriage-house,  and  get  a  piece  of 
that  black  rock." 

"Yes,  sah,  I'se  gone." 

In  a  twinkling  the  negro  had  obtained  a  huge  lump  of 
the  anthracite,  and  handing  it  over  to  the  governor,  it  was 
placed  in  a  favorable  position  alongside  of  the  first  lump, 
and  the  governor's  eyes  fairly  danced  polkas  as  he  witnessed 


GOVERNOR    MTFFLIN'S    FIRST    COAL    FIRE.         259 

the  fact  of  the  two  pieces  of  black  rock  assuming  a  red  hot 
complexion. 

"  Isaac  !"  again  exclaimed  the  governor. 

"Yes,  sah." 

"Run  out — get  another  lump." 

"Yes,  sah." 

A  third  lump  was  added  to  the  fire  ;  the  company  in  the 
governor's  private  parlor  was  augmented  by  the  appearance 
of  the  governor's  lady  and  other  portions  of  the  family,  who, 
seeing  Isaac  lugging  in  the  rocks,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  governor  was  going  "  clean  crazy"  over  his  expe 
riments.  It  was  in  vain  Mrs.  Mifflin  and  the  daughters 
tried  to  suspend  the  functions  of  the  "  chief  magistrate," 
over  the  roaring  fire. 

"  Go  away,  women  ;  what  do  you  know  about  mineralogy, 
igniting  anthracite  ?  Go  way  ;  close  the  doors ;  I've  got  the 
rocks  on  fire — I'll  make  them  laugh  t'other  side  of  their 
mouths,  at  my  black  rock  fires  !" 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement,  as  the  governor  was  per 
spiring  and  exulting  over  his  fiery  operation,  a  carriage 
drove  up,  and  two  gentlemen  alighted,  and  desired  an  im 
mediate  audience  with  Gov.  Mifflin  ;  but  so  deeply  engaged 
was  the  governor,  that  he  refused  the  strangers  an  audience, 
and  while  directing  Isaac  to  tell  the  strangers  that  they 
must  "  come  to-morrow,"  and  while  he  continued  to  pile  on 
more  black  rocks,  brought  in  by  Isaac,  in  rushed  the 
strangers. 

"  Good  day,  governor ;  you  must  excuse  us,  but  our  busi 
ness  admits  of  no  delay." 

"  Can't  help  it,  can't  help  you — see  how  it  blazes,  see 
how  it  burns  !"  cried  the  abstracted  or  mentally  and  physi 
cally  absorbed  governor. 

"  But,  governor,  the  man  may  be  hanged,  if — " 

"  Let  him  be  hanged — hurra  !     See  how  it  burns ;  call  in 


260  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

the  neighbors ;  let  them  see  my  black  rock  fire.  I  knew  I'd 
surprise  them  1" 

"But,  governor,  will  you  please  delay  this — " 

"Delay?  No,  not  for  the  President  of  the  United 
States.  I've  been  trying  this  experiment  for  eight  years. 
I've  now  succeeded — see,  see  how  it  burns  !  Run,  Isaac, 

over  to  Dr. 's,  tell  him  to  come,  stop  in  at  Mr.  S 's, 

tell  Mr.  H to  come,  come  everybody — I've  got  the 

black  rocks  in  a  blaze  !"  And  clapping  on  his  hat,  out  ran 
the  governor  through  the  storm,  down  to  the  village,  like  a 
madman,  leaving  the  strangers  and  part  of  his  household  as 
spectators  of  his  fiery  experiments.  Just  as  the  governor 
cleared  his  own  door,  a  pedler  wagon  "  drove  up,"  and 
the  pedler,  seeing  the  governor  starting  out  in  such  double 
quick  time,  hailed  him. 

"  Hel-lo  !     Sa-a-a-y,  yeou  heold  on — yeou  the  gutfner  ?" 

"  Clear  out  I"  roared  the  chief  magistrate. 

"  Shain't  deu  nothin'  of  the  sort,  no  how  I"  says  the 
pedler,  dismounting  from  his  wagon,  and  making  his  ap 
pearance  at  the  front  door,  where  he  encountered  the  two 
rather  astonished  strangers — legal  gentlemen  of  some  emi 
nence,  from  Harrisburg,  with  a  petition  for  the  respite  of 
execution. 

"  Halloo  !  which  o'  yeou  be  the  guv'ner  ?"  says  the 
pedler. 

"  Neither  of  us,"  replied  the  gentlemen  ;  "  that  was  the 
governor  you  spoke  to  as  you  drove  up." 

"  Yeou  dun't  say  so  !  Wall,  he  was  pesky  mad  about 
som'-thin'.  What  on  airth  ails  the  ole  feller  ?" 

"Can't  say,"  was  the  response;  "but  here  he  comes 
again." 

"  Now,  now  come  in,  come  in  and  see  for  yourselves," 
cried  the  excited  Governor  of  the  great  Key  Stone  State ; 
"  there's  a  roaring  fire  of  burning,  blazing,  black  rock, 
anthracite  coal  1" 


SURE    CURE.  261 

But,  alas  !  the  cross  sticks  having  given  away  in  the  in 
terim,  and  the  coal  being  thrown  down  upon  the  ashes  and 
stone  hearth, — was  all  out  ! 

"Wall,"  says  our  migratory  Yankee,  who  followed  the 
crowd  into  the  house,  "  I  guess  I  know  what  yeou  be  at, 
guv'ner,  but  I'll  tell  yeou  naow,  yeou  can't  begin  to  keep 
that  darn'd  hard  stuff  burning,  'less  yeou  fix  it  up  in  a  grate, 
like,  gin  it  air,  and  an  almighty  draught ;  yeou  see,  guv' 
ner,  I've  been  making  experiments  a  daru'd  long  while 
with  it !" 

The  laugh  of  the  governor's  friends  subsided  as  the  ped- 
ler  went  into  a  practical  theory  on  burning  stone  coal ;  the 
respite  was  signed — hospitalities  of  the  mansion  extended 
to  all  present,  and  in  course  of  a  few  days,  our  Yankee  and 
the  governor  rigged  up  a  grate,  and  soon  settled  the  ques 
tion — vyill  our  black  rocks  burn  ? 


Stttt    CtttL 

TRAVEL  is  a  good  invention  to  cure  the  blues  and  con 
dense  worldly  effects.  When  Cutaway  went  to  California, 
"  I  carried,"  said  he,  "  a  pile  of  despondency,  and  more  bag 
gage,  boots,  and  boxes,  than  would  fit  out  a  caravan. 
After  an  absence  of  just  fourteen  calendar  months,  I  started 
homewards,  and  was  so  boiling  over  with  hope  and  fond 
anticipation,  that  I  could  hardly  keep  in  my  old  boots! 
And  all  the  dunnage  I  had  left,  wouldn't  fill  a  pocket-hand- 
erchief,  or  sell  to  a  paper-maker  for  four  cents  1" 

Cutaway  recommends  seeing  the  worldy  elephant,  high, 
for  settling  one's  mind,  and  scattering  goods,  gold,  and 
chattels. 


Cjrasmg  a  Jiigrti&e  j&ibscrihr. 

PRINTERS,  from  time  immemorial — back  possibly  to 
the  days  of  Faust— have  suffered  martyrdom,  more  or 
less,  at  the  hands  of  the  people  who  didn't  pay  !  Many  of 
the  long-established  newspaper  concerns  can  show  a  "black 
list"  as  long  as  the  militia  law,  and  an  unpaid  cash  account 
bulky  enough  to  take  Cuba  !  Country  publishers  suffer  in 
this  way  intensely.  About  one  half  of  the  "subscribers" 
to  the  Clarion  of  Freedom,  or  the  Universal  Democrat,  or 
the  Whig  Shot  Totver,  seem  to  labor  under  the  Utopian 
notion  that  printers  were  made  to  mourn  over  unpaid  sub 
scription  lists;  or  that  they  "got  up"  papers  for  their  own 
peculiar  amusement,  and  carried  them  or  sent  them  to  the 
doors  of  the  public  for  mere  pastime  !  Every  publisher,  of 
about  every  paper  we  ever  examined,  about  this  time  of  year, 
has  told  his  own  story — requested  his  subscribers  to  come 
forward — pay  over — help  to  keep  the  mill  going — creditors 
easy — fire  in  the  stove — meal  in  the  barrel — children  in 
bread,  butter  and  slices — Sheriff  at  bay,  and  other  tragical 
affairs  connected  with  the  operations  attendant  upon  un 
settled  cash  accounts  !  But,  how  many  heed  such  "notices?" 
Paying  subscribers  do  not  read  them — such  applications  do 
not  apply  to  them — they  regret  to  see  them  in  the  paper, 
and,  like  honest,  common-sensed  people,  don't  probe  or 
meddle  with  other  people's  shortcomings.  The  delinquent 

subscriber  don't  read   such  calls  upon  his  humanity they 

are   distasteful  to  him  ;  he  may  squint  and  grin   over^the 
notice  to  pay  up,   and  chuckles  to  himself — "Ah,   nmpli! 
dun  away,  old  feller;   I  ain't  one  o'  that  kind  that  sends 
(262) 


CHASING   A   FUGITIVE   SUBSCRIBER.  263 

money  by  mail ;  it  might  be  lost,  and  the  man  that  duns  me 
for  two  or  three  dollars'  worth  of  newspapers,  may  get  it  if 
he  knoivs  how." 

Well,  the  good  time  has  come.  Printers  now  may  wait 
no  longer;  the  jig's  up — they  have  found  out  a  way  to  get 
their  money  just  as  easy  as  other  laborers  in  the  fields  of 
science,  art,  mechanism,  law,  physic  and  religion,  get  theirs. 
Let  the  printer  cry  Eureka. 

Doctor  Pendleton  St.  Clair  Smith,  a  patron  of  the  fine 
arts,  best  tailors,  barbers,  boot  blacks,  and  the  newspaper 
press,  was  a  tooth  operator  of  some  skill  and  great  preten 
sion.  He  lived  and  moved  in  modern  style,  and  though  no 
man  could  be  more  desirous  of  indulging  in  "short  credit," 
no  man  believed  or  acted  more  readily  upon  the  principle — 

"base  is  the  slave  that  pays." 


Dr.  P.  St.  C.  Smith  "slipped  up"  one  day,  leaving  the 
well  done  community  of  Boston  and  the  environs,  for 
fields  more  congenial  to  his  peculiar  talents.  He  stuck  the 
printer,  of  course.  His  numerous  subscription  accounts 
to  the  various  local  news  and  literary  journals,  in  the 
aggregate  amounted  to  quite  considerable ;  and  the  print 
ers  didn't  begin  to  like  it!  Now,  it  takes  a  Yankee  to 
head  off  a  Yankee,  and  about  this  time  a  live,  double-grand- 
action  Yankee,  named  Peabody,  possibly,  happened  in  at 
one  of  the  offices,  where  two  brother  publishers  were  "  ma 
king  a  few  remarks"  over  delinquent  subscribers,  and  es 
pecially  were  they  wrought  up  against  and  giving  Jessy  to 
Dr.  Pendleton  St.  Clair  Smith  ! 

"  How  much  does  the  feller  owe  you  ?"  quoth  Peabody. 

"  Owe  ?  More  than  he'll  ever  pay  during  the  present 
generation." 

'"Perhaps  not,"  says  Peabody  ;  "  now  if  you'll  just  give 
me  the  full  particulars  of  the  man.  his  manners  and  customs, 


264  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

name  and  size,  and  sell  me  your  accounts,  at  a  low  notch, 
I'll  buy  'em  ;  I'll  collect  'em,  too,  if  the  feller's  alive,  out  of 
jail,  and  any  where  around  between  sunrise  and  sunset  !" 

The  publishers  laughed  at  the  idea,  sensibly,  but  finding 
that  Peabody  was  up  for  a  trade,  they  traced  out  the  ac 
counts,  &c.,  and  for  a  five  dollar  bill,  Mr.  Peabody  was  put 
in  possession  of  an  account  of  some  twenty  odd  dollars  and 
cents  against  Dr.  P.  St.  C.  Smith. 

JSTow  Peabody  had,  some  time  previous  to  this  transaction, 
established  a  peculiar  kind  of  Telegraph,  a  human  galvanic 
battery,  or  endless  chain  of  them,  extending  all  over  the 
country,  for  collecting  bad  debts,  and  shocking  fugitives, 
or  stubborn  creditors !  By  a  continuation  of  faculties, 
causes  and  effects — shrewdness  and  forethought  peculiar  to 
a  man  capable  of  seeing  considerably  deep  into  millstones— 
Peabody  couldn't  be  dodged.  If  he  ever  got  his  feelers  on 
to  a  subject,  the  equivalent  was  bound  to  be  turning  up  ! 
It  struck  him  that  the  collection  of  newspaper  bills  afforded 
him  a  great  field  for  working  his  Telegraph,  and  he  hasn't 
been  mistaken. 

The  scene  now  changes ;  early  one  morning  in  the  pleas 
ant  month  of  June,  as  the  poet  might  say,  Dr.  Pendleton 
St.  Glair  Smith  was  to  be  seen  before  his  toilet  glass  in 
the  flourishing  city  of  Syracuse, — giving  the  finishing  stroke 
to  his  highly-cultivated  beard.  The  satisfaction  with  which 
he  made  this  demonstration,  evinced  the  sereneness  of  his 
mind  and  the  confidence  with  which  he  rested,  in  regard  to 
his  newspaper  'bills  in  Boston.  But  a  tap  is  heard  at  his 
door,  and  at  his  invitation  the  servant  comes  in,  announces 
a  gentleman  in  the  parlor,  desirous  of  speaking  to  Dr.  Smith. 
The  Doctor  waits  upon  the  visitor — 

"  Dr.  Pendleton  St.  Clair  Smith,  I  presume  ?" 
"Ye-e-s,"  slowly  and   suspiciously  responded  that  indi 
vidual. 

"I  am  collector,  sir,"  continued  the  stranger,   "for  the 


CHASING   A    FUGITIVE    SUBSCRIBER.  265 

firm  of  Peabody,  Grab,  Catchem,  and  Co.,  Boston.  I  have 
a  small  (!)  bill  against  you,  sir,  to  collect." 

"  What  for  ?"  eagerly  quoth  the  Doctor. 

"  Newspaper  subscriptions  and  advertising,  sir !" 

"  I  a — I  a,  you  a — well,  you  call  in  this  evening,"  says 
the  Doctor,  tremulously  fumbling  in  his  pockets — "I'll 
settle  with  you  ;  good  morning." 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  says  the  collector, — "I'll  call." 

That  afternoon,  Dr.  Pendleton  St.  Clair  Smith  vamosed ! 
He  had  barely  got  located  in  Syracuse,  before  they  had 
traced  him  ;  if  he  paid  the  printer,  a  cloud  of  other  debts 
would  follow,  and  so  he  up  stakes  and  made  a  fresh  dive! 

11  Now,"  says  Dr.  P.  St.  C.  Smith,  as  he  dumped  himself 
and  baggage  down  in  the  beautiful  city  of  Chicago,  "Now 
I'll  be  out  of  the  range  of  the  duns ;  they  won't  get  sight 
or  hearing  of  me,  for  a  while,  I'll  bet  a  hat !" 

But,  alas  !  for  the  delusion  ;  the  very  next  morning,  a  very 
suspicious,  hatchet-faced  individual,  made  himself  known  as 
the  deputed  collector  of  certain  newspaper  accounts,  for 
warded  from  Boston,  by  Peabody,  Grab,  Catchem,  &  Co. 
The  Dr.  uttered  a  very  severe  anathema;  he  looked  quite 
streaked,  he  faltered ;  he  then  desired  the  collector  to  call 
in  course  of  the  day,  and  the  bill  would  be  attended  to. 
The  collector  hoped  it  would  be  attended  to,  and  left;  so 
did  Dr.  P.  St.  C.  Smith  in  the  next  mail  line. 

About  one  month  after  the  affair  in  Chicago,  Dr.  P.  St. 
C.  Smith  was  seen  strutting  around  in  Charters  st.,  New 
Orleans,  confident  in  his  security,  smiling  in  the  brightness 
of  the  scenes  around  him ;  he  had  just  negotiated  for  an 
office,  had  already  concocted  his  advertisements,  and  sub 
scribed  for  the  papers,  when  lo  !  the  same  due  bill  from 
Boston  appeared  to  him,  in  the  hand  of  an  agent  of  Pea- 
body,  Grab,  Catchem  &  Co.  The  Dr.  was  almost  tempted 
to  pay  the  bill !  But,  then,  perhaps  the  agent  had  a  hat  full 
of  others — from  the  same  place — for  larger  amounts ! 


266  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

The  next  day  the  Doctor  put  for  Texas  !  planting  himself 
in  the  pleasant  town  of  Bexar,  and  cursing  duns  from  the 
bottom  of  his  heart — he  determined  to  keep  clear  of  them, 
even  if  he  had  to  bury  himself  away  out  here  in  Texas. 
But  what  was  his  horror  to  find,  the  first  week  of  his  hang 
ing  up  in  Bexar,  that  an  agent  of  the  firm  of  Peabody,  Grab, 
Catchem  &  Co.,  was  there!  The  Doctor  stepped  to  Gal- 
veston ;  on  the  way  he  accidentally  met  a  travelling  agent  of 
Peabody,  Grab,  Catchem  &  Co.  The  Doctor  took  the 
Sabine  slide  for  Tampico ;  there  he  found  the  "  black  vomit." 
He  up  and  off  again,  for  Mobile  ;  his  nervous  system  was 
much  worked  up  and  his  pocket-book  sadly  depleted! 
There  were  two  alternatives — change  his  name,  size  and 
profession,  and  live  in  a  swamp  ;  or  settle  with  the  firm  of 
Peabody,  Grab,  Catchem  &  Co.  Dr.  Pendleton  St.  Clair 
Smith  chose  the  latter  ;  he  sought  and  soon  found  in  Mobile, 
a  veritable  agent,  duly  authorized  to  receive  and  forward 
funds  for  Peabody,  Grab,  Catchem  &  Co.,  and  hunt  up  and 

down — fugitives  from  the  printer  !     The  Doctor  paid  up 

felt  better,  and  learned  the  moral  fact  that  delinquent  sub 
scribers  are  no  longer  to  be  the  printers'  ghosts. 


A  PERSON  never  thinks  so  meanly  of  ambition  as  when 
walking  through  a  grave-yard. — To  see  men  who  have  filled 
the  world  with  their  glory  for  half  a  century  or  more,  re 
duced  to  a  six  foot  mudhole,  gives  pride  a  shock  which  re 
quires  a  long  stay  in  a  city  to  counteract. — The  gentlemen 
who  are  now  "  spoken  of  for  the  Presidency,"  will  in  less 
than  a  century,  have  their  bones  carted  away  to  make  room 
for  a  street  sewer.  Queer  creature  that  man — well,  he  is. 


ttomtn 


IDUNNO  where  I  heer'd  it,  but  I  know  it's  true.     I 
expected  it  long  ago.     I  told  Jones  it'd  come  out  so." 

"  Why,  Uncle  Josh,  you  don't  pretend  to  say  that  Miller's 
wife  has  run  off  with  Bob  Tape,  Yardstick's  dark,  do 
you  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,  too  ;  hain't  it  been  the  talk  of  the  neighbor 
hood  for  a  year  past,  that  Miller's  wife  and  that  feller  —  Bob 
Tape,  were  a  leetle  too  thick  ?" 

"  Well,  Uncle  Josh,"  says  his  neighbor  Brown,  "I  don't 
recollect  anybody  saying  anything  about  it,  but  you,  and 
for  ray  part,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

"  Why,  hain't  Miller's  wife  gone  ?"  says  Uncle  Josh. 

"  I  don't  know  —  is  she  ?"  says  Brown. 

"  Be  sure  she  is  ;  I  went  over  to  the  store  this  morning, 
the  fust  thing,  to  see  if  Bob  Tape  was  about  —  he  wasn't 
there  —  they  said  he'd  gone  to  Boston  on  business  for  old 
Yardstick.  O,  ho  !  says  I,  and  then  I  started  for  Heel 
tap's  shop  ;  we  had  allers  said  how  things  would  turn  out. 
He  was  out,  but  seem'  me  go  to  his  shop,  he  came  a  run-  . 
iiin',  and  says  he  : 

"  '  Uncle  Josh,  theer  gone,  sure  enough  !  —  I've  been  over 
to  old  Mammy  Gabbles,  and  she  sent  her  Suke  over  to 
Miller's,  on  purtence  of  borrowin'  some  lard,  but  told  Suke 
to  look  around  and  see  ef  Miller's  wife  wur  about  ;  by 
Nebbyknezer,  Miller's  wife  wur  gone  !  Marm  Gabbles 
couldn't  rest,  so  she  sent  back  Suke,  and  told  her  to  ax  the 
children  whare  their  marm  wus  ;  Miller  hearing  Suke,  or 
dered  her  to  scoot,  so  Suke  left  without  hearing  the  facts 
in  the  case,  as  'Squire  Black  says.' 

(267) 


268  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"But  Heeltap  swears,  and  I  know  Miller's  wife  and  Bob 
Tape  have  sloped,  as  they  say  in  the  papers." 

"  Well,"  says  Brown,  "I'm  sorry  if  it's  true — I  don't  be 
lieve  a  word  of  it  tho',  and  as  it's  none  of  my  business,  I 
shall  have  nothing  to  say  about  it." 

Uncle  Josh  was  one  of  those  inordinate  pests  which  al 
most  every  village,  town  and  hamlet  in  the  country  is  more 
or  less  accursed  with.  He  was  a  great,  tall,  bony,  sharp- 
nosed,  grinning  genius,  who,  being  in  possession  of  a  small 
farm,  with  plenty  of  boys  and  girls  to  work  it,  did  not  do 
anything  but  eat,  sleep  and  lounge  around ;  a  gatherer  of 
scan,  mag.,  a  news  and  scandal-monger,  a  great  guesser,  and 
a  stronger  suspicioner,  of  everybody's  motives  and  inten 
tions,  and,  of  course,  never  imputed  a  good  motive  or  move 
ment  to  anybody. 

You've  seen  those  wretches,  male  and  female,  haven't 
you,  reader  ?  Such  people  are  great  nuisances — half  the 
discomforts  of  life  are  bred  by  them  ;  they  contaminate  and 
poison  the  air  they  breathe,  with  their  noisome  breath,  like 
the  odor  of  the  Upas  tree. 

Uncle  Josh  had  annoyed  many — he  was  the  dread  and 
disgust  of  seven-eighths  of  the  town  he  lived  in.  He  had 
caused  more  quarrels,  smutted  more  characters,  and  created 
more  ill-feeling  between  friends,  neighbors  and  acquain 
tances,  than  all  else  beside  in  the  community  of  Frogtown. 
Uncle  Josh  was  voted  a  great  bore  by  the  men,  and  a 
sneaking,  meddling  old  granny  by  the  women.  So,  at  last, 
the  young  women  of  the  town  did  agree,  that  the  very  next 
time  Uncle  Josh  carried,  concocted,  or  circulated  any  slan 
derous  or  otherwise  mischievous  stories,  they  would  duck 
him  in  the  mill-race. 

Now,  Brown — old  Mister  Brown — was  the  very  antipode 
of  Uncle  Josh  ;  he  was  for  always  taking  matters  and 
things  by  the  smoothest  handle.  Mister  Brown  never  told 
tales,  backbited  or  slandered  anybody  ;  everybody  had  a 


WAY    THE   WOMEN    FIXED    THE   TALE-BEARER.    269 

good  word  to  say  about  Mister  Brown,  and  Mister  Brown 
had  a  good  word  to  say  about  everybody.  The  gals  thought 
it  prudent  to  give  old  Mister  Brown  an  inkling  of  their 
plans  in  regard  to  the  disposition  they  intended  to  make  of 
Uncle  Josh  ;  the  old  man  laughed,  and  told  them  to  go 
ahead,  and  to  duck  old  Josh,  and  perhaps  they  would  re 
form  him. 

"Now,  gals,"  says  old  Mister  Brown,  "Uncle  Josh  has 
just  this  very  day  been  at  his  dirty  work  ;  by  this  time  he 
has  spread  the  news  all  over  the  town,  that  Miller's  wife 
has  gone  off  with  Yardstick's  dark.  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  his  tale,  and  if  Miller's  wife  ain't  really  gone  off,  Uncle 
Josh  ought' to  be  soused  in  the  mill-race." 

Next  morning  Miller's  wife  came  home;  she  had  been 
down  to  her  sister's,  a  few  miles  off,  to  see  a  sick  child  ;  her 
husband  had  been  away  at  a  law-suit,  in  a  neighboring 
town,  and  so  Miller  nor  his  wife  knew  nothing  of  the  re 
port  of  her  elopement  with  Bob  Tape,  until  their  return. 

Miller  was  in  a  rage,  but  couldn't  find  out  the  author  of 
the  report.  Miller's  wife  was  deeply  mortified  that  such  a 
suspicion  should  arise  of  her ;  she  had  been  making  Bob 
Tape  some  new  clothes  to  go  to  Boston  in,  and  here  was 
the  gist  of  Bob  and  Miller's  wife's  intimacy  1  There  was 
a  great  time  about  it — Miller  swore  like  a  trooper,  and  his 
wife  nearly  cried  her  eyes  out. 

A  few  evenings  afterwards,  it  being  cool,  clear  weather  in 
October,  Polly  Higgins  and  Sally  Smith  called  in  to  see 
Miller's  wife,  and  asked  her  to  join  them  in  a  little  party 
that  some  of  the  neighboring  women  had  got  up  that  even 
ing,  for  a  particular  purpose.  Miller's  wife  not  having 
much  to  do  that  evening,  her  husband  said  she  might  go 
out  a  spell  if  she  chose,  and  she  went,  and  soon  learned  the 
purport  of  the  call— old  Uncle  Josh  was  to  be  ducked  in 
the  mill-race  !  and  Miller's  wife,  disguised  as  the  rest,  was 
to  help  do  it.  When  she  heard  that  old  Josh  had  cir- 


270  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

dilated  the  report  of  her  elopement,  Miller's  wife  did  not 
require  much  coaxing  to  join  the  watering  committee. 

It  was  so  planned  that  all  the  women,  some  ten  or  twelve 
in  number,  were  to  put  on  men's  clothes  and  lay  in  wait  for 
Uncle  Josh  at  his  lane  gate,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  mill-race.  Old  Josh  always  hung  around  the  tavern, 
Heeltap's  shoe-shop,  or  the  grocery,  until  9  P.  M.,  before 
he  started  for  home,  and  the  girls  determined  to  rush  out 
of  a  small  thicket  that  stood  close  by  old  Josh's  lane  gate, 
and  throwing  a  large,  stout  sheet  over  him,  wind  him  up, 
and  then  seizing  him  head,  neck  and  heels,  hurry  him  off  to 
the  mill-race,  and  duck  him  well. 

Mind  you,  your  country  gals  and  women  are  not  paint 
and  powder,  corset-laced  and  fragile  creatures,  like  your 
delicate,  more  ornamental  than  useful  young  ladies  of  the 
city  ;  no,  no,  the  gals  of  Frogtown  were  real  flesh  and 
blood ;  Venuses  and  Dianas  of  solidity  and  substance ; 
and  it  would  have  taken  several  better  men  than  Uncle 
Josh  to  have  got  away  from  them.  It  was  a  cool,  moon- 
shiny  night,  but  to  better  favor  the  women,  just  as  old 
Josh  got  near  his  gate,  a  large,  black  cloud  obscured  the 
inoon,  and  all  was  as  dark  as  a  stack  of  black  cats  in  a  coal 
cellar.  Miller's  wife  acted  as  captain  ;  dressed  in  Bob 
Tape's  old  clothes  he  had  left  at  her  house  to  be  repaired, 
she  gave  the  word,  and  out  they  rushed. 

"  Seize  him,  boys  !"  said  she,  in  a  very  loud  whisper. 
Over  went  the  sheet,  down  came  old  Josh,  co-blim  1  Be 
fore  he  could  say  "  lor'  a  massy,"  he  was  dragged  to  the 
mill-race,  tied  hand  and  foot,  blindfolded,  his  coat  taken  off, 
and  he  was  ca-soused  into  the  cold  water  !  Fury  !  how  the 
old  fellow  begged  for  his  life  ! 

"  O,  lor'  a  massy,  don't  drown  me  boys  !  I — a,  I "  ca- 

souse  he  went  again. 

"  Give  him  another  duck,"  says  one — and  in  he'd  go 
again. 


WAY   THE   WOMEN   FIXED   THE   TALE-BEARER.      271 

"  Now,  we'll  learn  you  to  carry  tales,"  says  another. 

"  And  tell  lies  on  me  and  Miller's  wife,"  says  Bob  Tape 
. — ca-souse  he  went. 

"  0,  lor'  a  mas — mas — e,  do — do — don't  drown  me,  Bob  ; 
I'll — I'll  pro-raise  never  to. — "  in  they  put  him  again  ;  the 
water  was  as  cold  as  ice. 

"Will  you  promise  never  to  take  or  carry  a  story 
again  ?" 

«  i  a — d — d — do  promise,  if — yo — yo — yo — you — don't 
— due — "  and  in  he  went  again. 

"  Do  you  promise  to  mind  your  own  business  and  let 
others  alone,  Uncle  Josh  ?" 

"Ye — ye — yes,  I  d — do,  I — I — I'll  promise  anything — 
bo — boys,  only  let  me  go,"  says  Uncle  Josh. 

"Well,  boys,"  says  Polly  Higgins,  rousing,  jolly  critter 
she  was,  too,  "  I  owe  Uncle  Josh  one  more  dip :  he  lied 
about  my  gal,  Polly  Higgins,  and — " 

"  0,  ho,  Seth  Jones,  that's  you,  ain't  it  ?— Well— we — 
well,  I  said  nothing  about  Polly ;  it  was  Heeltap  said  it, 
'deed  it  was." 

Then  they  let  old  Josh  off,  vowing  they'd  give  Heeltap 
his  gruel  next  night,  and  the  moment  Josh  got  clear  of 
his  sousers,  he  cut  for  home.  Next  day  Heeltap  cleared 
himself. — Uncle  Josh  soon  found  out  that  he  had  been 
ducked  by  the  women,  and,  for  his  own  peace,  moved 
to  Iowa,  and  Frogtown  has  been  a  happy  place  ever 
since. 


of  pissing  gonr  dun  Otift. 


CATO,  when  Censor  of  Rome,  expelled  from  the  Senate 
Manilius,  whom  the  general  opinion  had  marked  out 
for  counsellor,  because  he  had  given  his  wife  a  kiss  in  the 
day  time,  in  the  sight  of  his  daughter.  And  this  reminds 
us  of  a  local  story  told  us  by  one  of  the  "  oldest  inhabi 
tants"  of  the  city,  that  occurred  once  upon  a  time  in  this 
harbor.  Before  the  Revolutionary  war,  one  of  the  King's 
ships  was  stationed  here,  and  occasionally  cruised  down  to 
the  south'ard.  It  so  chanced  that  after  a  long  absence  the 
cruiser  arrived  in  the  harbor  on  Sunday,  and  as  the  naval 
captain  had  left  his  wife  in  Boston,  the  moment  she  heard 
of  his  arrival  she  hastened  down  to  the  water  side  in  order 
to  receive  him.  The  worthy  old  sea  captain,  on  landing, 
embraced  his  lady  with  tenderness  and  true  affection. 
This,  as  there  were  many  spectators  by,  gave  great  offence 
to  the  puritanical  landsmen,  and  was  considered  as  an  act 
of  indecency  and  a  flagrant  profanation  of  the  Sabbath. 
The  next  day,  therefore,  the  captain  was  summoned  before 
the  magistrates  and  selectmen,  who,  with  many  severe  re 
bukes  and  pious  exhortations,  ordered  him  to  be  publicly 
whipped  ! 

The  old  captain  stifled  his  indignation  and  resentment  as 
much  as  possible  ;  and  as  the  punishment,  from  the  fre 
quency  of  it,  was  not  attended  with  any  degree  of  disgrace, 
he  mixed  as  usual  with  the  best  of  company,  and  even  with 
the  selectmen  he  soon  ceased  to  be  else  than  familiar  as 
ever. 

At  length  the  vessel  was  ordered  home,  to  England,  and 
the  captain,  therefore,  with  seeming  concern  to  take  leave 
(272) 


PENALTY   OF   KISSING    YOUR    OWN   WIFE.          273 

of  his  worthy  friends,  and  that  they  might  spend  a  more 
happy  and  convivial  day  together  before  their  final  separa 
tion,  invited  the  principal  magistrates  and  selectmen  to 
dine  with  him  the  day  of  his  departure,  on  board  his  ship. 
They  readily  accepted  the  invitation,  and  nothing  could  be 
more  glorious  than  the  entertainment  that  was  given. 

At  length  the  solemn  moment  arrived  that  was  to  part 
them — the  anchor  was  apeak,  the  sails  unfurled,  and  noth 
ing  was  wanted  but  the  signal  to  get  under  way.  The 
captain,  after  taking  an  affectionate  and  formal  leave  of 
his  worthy  municipal  friends,  accompanied  them  upon  deck 
where  the  boatswain  and  crew  were  ready  to  receive  them. 
He  here  thanked  them  afresh  for  the  civilities  they  had 
shown  him,  of  which  the  captain  assured  them  he  should 
bear  a  kind  remembrance. 

"  One  point  of  civility,  only,"  he  continued,  "  gentlemen, 
remains  to  be  adjusted  between  us,  and  as  it  is  in  my 
power  to  settle  it,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  so.  You 
infernal  old  rogues  you,  you  whipped  me  for  evincing  a 
due  regard  and  love  for  my  wife,  and  now,  lest  you  per 
petrate  the  outrage  again  'gainst  all  law  and  reason,  I'll 
give  you  a  lesson  that  will  last  your  lifetime.  Boatswain, 
strip  each  of  these  rogues  to  the  waist,  lash  them  fast  and 
put  on  your  cat-o'-nine  tails  forty  stripes  each  !" 

The  boatswain,  mid  the  laugh  and  acclamation  of  the 
whole  crew,  went  to  the  work  with  a  hearty  good  will,  and 
after  giving  the  magistrates  and  selectmen  a  fine  dressing 
all  around,  he  cut  them  loose,  put  them  in  their  boat,  and 
the  ship  set  sail  down  the  harbor  and  soon  disappeared  in 
the  dim  dist  cut  ocean. 
It 


aito     Kscrits  of 


PEOPLE  of  experience  tell  awful  stories  about  the 
miseries  of  boarding,  and  boarding-houses,  and  it  is 
very  clearly  palpable  to  us  that  keepers  of  boarding-houses 
could  a  tale  unfold  of  their  own  miseries,  equal,  if  not 
double  that  of  the  luckless  creatures  who  board.  That 
housekeeping  has  its  joys  it  would  be  vain  to  deny,  but 
we  need  no  ghost  come  from  the  grave  to  inform  us  that 
the  secrets  of  the  kitchen  are  as  numerous  and  as  harrow 
ing,  as  all  can  attest  that  ever  had  occasion  to  keep  house 
or  hire  a  "Betty." 

When  Mr.  Peter  Perriwinkle  got  married,  he  exclaimed 
against  hotels,  and  abominated  boarding-houses  ;  quitting 
both  species  of  human  habitations,  he  "  up"  and  rented  a 
house,  and  to  hear  his  glowing  description  of  the  house  — 
such  a  cosy  little  three-storied  brick  house,  on  a  street  too 
broad  for  the  neighbors  opposite  to  see  into  his  front  par 
lors,  and  no  houses  in  the  rear  from  which  the  prying  eye 
of  the  curious  and  idle  could  spy  into  back  kitchen  closets 
or  dinner  pots  —  in  brief,  Perriwinkle  went  on  with  that 
strain  of  domestic  eloquence,  peculiar  to  new  beginners  in 
the  arts  and  mysteries  of  housekeeping,  and  after  a  gene 
ral  detail  of  the  quiet  comfort  and  unalloyed  happiness  he 
and  Mrs.  P.  were  bound  to  enjoy  for  the  balance  of  their 
lives,  we  merely  observed  — 

"Ah,  my  dear  sir,  you've  but  the  ephemeral  bright  side 
of  your  vision  yet.  But  no  matter,  dear  Pete,  as  the  man 
said  of  the  sausages  —  hope  for  the  best,  but  be  prepared 
for  the  worst." 

"  But,  brother  Jack,  I've  no  reason  to  look  for  any  thing 
(274) 


MYSTERIES   AND  MISERIES  OF   HOUSEKEEPING.    275 

but  a  good  time.  Haven't  I  married  one  of  the  best  women 
in  the  world  ?  I'm  too  experienced  in  life,  my  boy,  to  call 
any  female  women  angels,  doves,  or  sugar  plums,  you  know, 
but  my  wife  is  a  re?l  woman  !" 

"  Yes,  Pete,  she  is  all  that,"  said  we. 

"  Well,  ain't  I  square  with  the  world  ?  Enough  laid  up 
for  a  wet  day — don't  care  twopence  ha'penny  for  politics, 
or  soldier  fol-de-rols — who  wins  or  who  loses  in  such 
hums  ?" 

"  Granted,  old  fellow." 

"  I  tell  you  I've  a  perfect  little  paradise  of  a  house  en 
gaged,  furnished  and  provisioned  for  a  twelvemonth." 

"No  doubt  of  all  that." 

"As  to  friends  and  acquaintances,  I  have  plenty,  and 
of  the  right  stripe,  too ;  I'd  swear  to  that  without  any  re 
luctance." 

"  I  hope,  Peter,  you  have." 

"  Then  what  in  faith  do  you  imagine  I  have  in  embryo  to 
upset  or  disturb  the  even  tenor  of  my  way,  old  boy  ?  Come, 
answer  that." 

"  Does  your  domestic  apparatus  work  well  ?" 

"  I  haven't  tried  it  yet." 

"  Are  your  appurtenances — your  household  appointments 
— from  kitchen  to  parlor,  from  coal  cellar  to  top  scuttle,  all 
they  are  cracked  up  to  be  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,  the  fact  is,  I  can't  tell  that,  yet." 

"  Do  your  chimneys  draw  ?  Does  your  range  or  cooking 
stove  do  things  up  brown  ?  Have  you  got  your  Bettys  ?" 

"  I  vow  you've  sort  of  got  me  this  time,  brother  Jack  ; 
but  I'll  find  out,  soon,  and  let  you  know." 

"  Do,  if  you  please,  Peter,  and  let  us  hear  an  account 
of  how  things  are  working  after  the  first  quarter's  expe 
rience." 

Periwinkle  opened  with  a  neat  supper  party.  We  at 
tended,  and  every  thing  looked  cap-a-pie  ;  new,  tasteful  and 


276  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

happy  as  any  thing  human  under  God's  providence  and  the 
art  and  judgment  of  man  could  promise.  At  midnight  the 
company  dispersed,  all  wishing  the  Perriwinkles  life,  love, 
and  lots  of  the  small  fry. 

Months  passed,  full  three  ;  we  met  our  old  and  familiar 
friend,  Peter  Perriwinkle,  and  as  we  had  not  seen  him  for 
some  time,  we  met  with  greetings  most  cordial. 

"  How  is  every  thing,  old  boy — paradise  regained  ?" 

"Ah,"  said  Peter,  with  an  ominous  shake  of  the  head, 
"  dear  Jack, — we've  a  great  deal  to  learn  in  this  world, 
and  as  our  old  friend  Sam  Yeller  says,  whether  its  worth 
while  to  pay  so  much  to  learn  so  little,  at  cost — is  a  ques 
tion." 

"You  begin  to  think  so,  eh  ?" 

"  Things  don't  work  quite  so  smooth  as  I  expected — 
I've  moved  !" 

"What?     Not  so  soon?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Perriwinkle;  "that  house  was  a  nui 
sance  !" 

"A  nuisance?  Why,  I  thought  you  were  in  raptures 
with  it  ?" 

"  Had  water  every  wet  spell,  knee-deep  in  the  cellar;  full 
of  rats,  bugs,  and  foul  air." 

"You  don't  say  so  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Perriwinkle,  mournfully.  "Chimneys 
smoked,  paper  peeled  off  the  walls,  Mrs.  P.  got  the  rheu 
matics,  a  turner  worked  all  night,  next  door,  the  fellow  that 
had  previously  lived  or  stayed  in  the  house,  ran  off,  leaving 
all  his  bills  unpaid,  and  our  door  bell  was  incessantly  kept 
ringing  by  ugly  and  impudent  duns,  and  the  creditors  of 
the  rascal,  whom  I  did  not  know  from  a  side  of  sole  leather. 
I  lived  there  in  purgatory  1" 

"  Too  bad,"  said  we.     "  Well,  you've  moved,  eh  ?" 

"  Moved — and  such  an  infernal  job  as  it  was.    You  know 


* 


MYSTERIES   AND  MISERIES  OF   HOUSEKEEPING.    277 

the  two  vases  I  received  as  a  present  from  my  brother,  at 
Leghorn ;  I  wouldn't  have  taken  $100  each,  for  them — " 

"  They  are  worth  it ;  more  too." 

"  The  carman  dropped  one  out  of  his  hands,  broke  it  into 
a  half  bushel  of  flinders,  and  I  hit  the  centre  table  upon 
•which  the  other  stood,  with  a  chair,  and  broke  it  into  forty 
pieces.  But,  that  wasn't  any  thing,  sir.  My  wife  packed 
up  the  elegant  set  of  china  presented  her  by  her  sister,  in  a 
large  clothes  basket,  and  set  it  out  in  the  hall,  and  while 
our  Irish  girl  and  the  carman  were  carrying  out  a  heavy 
trunk,  the  girl  lost  her  balance  and  fell  bump  into  the  bas 
ket.  She  weighed  over  two  hundred  pounds — every  article 
of  the  china  was  crushed  into  powder  !" 

"  This  was  too  bad,"  said  we,  condolingly. 

"  Our  carpets  were  torn  in  getting  them  up,  for  I  had 
them  put  down  fast  and  tight,  never  supposing  they'd  come 
up  until  thread-bare  and  out  of  fashion  ;  they  were  stained 
and  daubed.  The  veneering  of  the  piano  and  other  furni 
ture  is  scratched  and  torn ;  a  hundred  small  matters  are 
utilated.  Franklin  thought  a  few  moves  was  as  bad  as  a 
fire  ;  one  move  convinces  me  that  the  old  man  was  right. 
But,  my  dear  fellow,  I  won't  bore  you  with  my  miseries. 
We  are  now  moved,  and  look  comfortable  again.  Call  and 
see  us,  do.  Good  bye." 

About  a  fortnight  after  meeting  Perriwinkle,  one  even 
ing  we  went  up  town  to  see  him  and  his  lady.  Mrs.  P., 
before  marriage,  was  an  uncommon  even-tempered  and 
most  amiable  woman.  She  had  now  been  married  about  six 
months.  Upon  entering  the  parlor  we  found  Mrs.  P. 
laboring  under  much  "excitement,"  and  poor  Peter — he 
was  doing  his  best  to  pacify  and  soothe  her — 

"  Halloo  !  what's  the/ trouble  ?" — we  were  familiar  enough 
to  ask  the  question — as  they  were  alone,  without  intruding. 

"  Take  a  seat,  John,"  said  Perriwinkle.    "Mrs.   P.  and 


278  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

the   cook  have   had  a  misunderstanding.     A  little   muss, 
that's  all." 

"Mr.  Humphries,"  responded  the  irritated  wife,  "you 
don't  know  how  one's  temper  and  good  nature  are  put  out, 
sir,  by  housekeeping  ;  by  the  impudence,  awkwardness,  and 
wasteful  habits  of  servants,  sir." 

"Oh!  yes,  we  do,  Mrs.  P.  ;  we've  had  our  experience," 
we  replied. 

"Well,  sir,"  she  continued,  "I  have  suffered  so  in  or 
dering,  directing,  and  watching  these  women  and  girls—had 
my  feelings  so  outraged  by  them,  time  and  again,  since  we 
began  housekeeping,  that  I  vow  I  am  out  of  all  manner  of 
patience  and  charity  for  them.  We  have  had  occasion  to 
change  our  help  so  often,  that  I  finally  concluded  to  submit 
to  the  awkwardness  that  cost  us  sets  of  china,  dozens  of 
glasses,  stained  carpets,  soiled  paints,  smeared  walls,  rugs 
upon  the  top  of  the  piano,  and  the  piano  cloths  put  down 
for  rugs  ;  Mr.  P.'s  best  linen  used  for  mops,  and  puddings 
boiled  in  night-caps.  But,  sir,  when  this  evening  I  found 
the  dough-tray  filled  with  the  chambermaid's  old  clothes,^ 
she  wiping  the  lamps  with  our  linen  napkins,  and  the  cooli 
washing  out  her  stockings  in  the  dinner  pot— I  gave  way 
to  my  angry  passions,  and  cried  with  vexation  !" 

And  she  really  did  cry,  for  female  blood  of  Mrs.  P.'s 
pilgrim  stock,  couldn't  stand  that,  nohow. 

P.  S. — Perriwinkle  and  lady  sold  off,  and  took  rooms 
at  the  Tremont  House,  in  order  to  preserve  their  morals 
and  money. 


iserits  of  it 


poverity  is  at  times  very  unhandy—  yea,  humili- 
ating,  we  can  bear  witness  ;  but  that  any  persons 
should  make  their  poverty  an  everlasting  subject  of  shame 
and  annoyance  to  themselves,  is  the  most  contemptible  non 
sense  we  know  of.  During  our  junior  days,  while  officiating 
as  "  shop  boy,"  behind  a  counter  in  a  southern  city,  we 
used  to  derive  some  fun  from  the  manoeuvres  of  a  dandy-jack 
of  a  fellow  in  the  same  establishment.  He  was  of  the  bul 
let-headed,  pimpled  and  stubby-haired  genus,  but  dressed 
up  to  the  nines;  and  had  as  much  pride  as  two  half-Spanish 
counts  or  a  peacock  in  a  barnyard. 

Charley  was  mostly  engaged  in  the  ware  rooms,  labora 
tory,  etc.,  up  stairs.  He  would  arrive  about  f  A.  M., 
^  arrayed  in  the  costume  of  the  latest  style,  as  he  flaunted 
**  down  Chestnut  Street—  by  the  way,  it  was  a  long,  idle 
tramp,  out  of  his  road  to  do  so,  —  his  hair  all  frizzled  up, 
hat  shining  and  bright  as  a  May  morn,  his  dickey  so  stiff 
he  could  hardly  expectorate  over  his  goatee,  while  his 
"  stunnin'  "  scarf  and  dashing  pin  stuck  out  to  the  admiration 
of  Charley's  extensive  eyes,  and  the  astonishment  of  half 
the  clerks  and  all  the  shop  boys  along  the  line  of  our  Beau 
Brummell's  promenade  ! 

It  was  very  natural  to  conceive  that  Charley  was  im 
pressed  with  the  idea,  that  he  was  the  envy  of  half  the  men, 
and  the  beau  ideal  of  all  the  women  he  met  1  But  your 
real  dandy  is  no  particular  lover  of  women  ;  he  very  natu 
rally  so  loves  himself  that  he.  lavishes  all  his  fond  affection 
upon  his  own  person.  So  it  was  with  our  beau  —  he 
wouldn't  have  risked  dirtying  his  hands,  soiling  his  "patent 

(279) 


280  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

leathers,"  or  disarranging  his  scarf  the  thirteenth  of  an 
inch,  to  save  a  lady  from  a  mad  bull,  or  being  run  dovvi 
by  a  wheell^irrow  !  Charley,  to  be  sure,  would  walk  with 
them,  talk  with  them,  beau  them  to  the  theatre,  concert  or 
ball  room,  provided  always — they  were  dressed  all  but  to 
within  half  an  inch  of  their  lives  1  The  man  who  introduced 
a  new  and  stunnin'  hat,  scarf,  or  coat,  Charley  would  swear 
friendship  to,  on  sight !  A  shabby,  genteel  person  was  his 
abomination;  a  patch  or  darn,  utterly  horrifying!  He 
lived,  moved,  breathed — ideally,  his  ideality  based,  of  course, 
upon  ridiculous  superfluities  of  life — leather  and  prunella, 
entirely.  Charley  looked  upon  "a  dirty  day"  as  upon  a 
villanously-dressed  person,  while  a  bright,  shining  morn — 
giving  him  amplitude  to  make  a  "grand  dash,"  won  from 
him  the  same  encomiums  to  the  producer  that  he  would 
bestow  on  the  getter-up  of  an  elegant  pair  of  cassirneres — 
commendable  works  of  an  artist !  The  genus  dandy, 
whether  of  savage  or  civilized  life,  is  a  felicitous  subject  for 
peculiar,  speculative,  comparative  analogy  or  analysis  ;  we 
shall  pursue  the  shadow  no  farther,  but  come  to  the  sub- 
stance. 

After  arriving  at  the  establishment,  Charley  would  strip 
off  his  "top  hamper,"  placing  his  finery  in  a  closet  with 
the  care  and  diligence  of  a  maiden  of  thirty,  and  upwards. 
Then,  donning  a  rude  pair  of  over-alls  and  coat,  he  conde 
scended  to  go  to  work.  Now,  in  the  said  establishment, 
our  beau  had  few  friends;  the  men,  girls,  and  boys  were 
"  down"  upon  him ;  the  men,  because  of  his  dandyism  ;  the 
females  hated  him,  because  Charley  stuck  his  long  nose  up 
at  "  shop  girls,"  and  wouldn't  no  more  notice  them  in  the 
streets,  than  if  they  were  chimney  sweepers  or  decayed 
esculents !  We  boys  didn't  like  him  no  how,  generally, 
though  it  was  policy  for  him  to  treat  us  tolerably  decent, 
because  his  pride  made  it  imperiously  necessary  that  some 
of  the  "little  breeches"  should  do  small  chores,  errands, 


MISERIES    OF   A   DANDY.  281 

bringing  water  from  the  street,  carrying  down  to  the  shop 
goods,  etc.,  which  might  otherwise  devolve  upon  himself. 
But  men,  girls  and  boys  were  always  scheming  and  prac 
tising  jokes  and  tricks  upon  the  beau.  The  boys  would  all 
rush  off  to  dinner — first  having  so  dirtied  the  water,  hid 
the  towels  and  soap,  that  poor  Charley  would  necessarily 
be  obliged  to  go  down  into  the  public  street  and  bring  up 
a  bucket  of  the  clean  element  to  wash  his  begrimed  face 
and  hands.  And  mark  the  difficulties  and  diplomacy  of 
such  an  arrangement.  Charley  would  slip  down  into  the 
lower  entry,  peep  out  to  see  if  any  body  was  looking, — if  a 
genteel  person  was  visible,  the  beau  held  back  with  his 
bucket ;  after  various  reconnoissances,  the  coast  would 
appear  clear,  and  the  beau  would  dash  out  to  the  pump, 
agitate  ''the  iron-tailed  cow"  with  the  force  and  speed  of 
an  infantile  earthquake — snatch  up  the  bucket,  and  with 
one  dart  hit  the  doorway,  and  glide  up  stairs,  thanking  his 
stars  that  nobody  "seen  him  do  it !" 

In  one  of  these  forays  for  water,  the  beau  was  decidedly 
cornered  by  two  of  the  "shop  girls."  They,  sly  creatures, 
observed  poor  Charley  from  an  upper  "landing"  of  the 
stairway,  in  the  entry  below,  watching  his  chance  to  get  a 
clear  coast  to  fill  his  dirty  bucket.  The  moment  the  beau 
darted  out,  down  rush  the  girls — slam  to  the  door  and 
bar  it  I 

The  beau,  dreaming  of  no  such  diabolical  inventions, 
gives  the  pump  an  awful  surge,  fills  the  bucket,  looks  down 
the  street,  and — 0  !  murder,  there  come  two  ladies — the 
first  cuts  of  the  city,  to  whom  Charley  had  once  the  honor 
of  a  personal  introduction  I  With  his  face  turned  over  his 
shoulder  at  the  ladies — his  nether  limbs  desperately  nerved 
for  tall  talking, — he  dashes  at  the  supposed  open  en  try  way, 
and — nearly  knocked  the  panel  out  of  the  door,  smashing 
the  bucket,  spilling  the  water,  and  slightly  killing  himself ! 

It  was  almost  "  a  cruel  joke,"  in  the  girls,  who,  taking 


282  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

advantage  of  the  stunning  effect  of  the  operation,  unbarred 
the  door  and  vanished,  before  poor  Charley  picked  himself 
up  and  scrambled  into  the  lower  store  to  recuperate. 

Weeks  ran  on  ;  the  beau  had  enjoyed  a  respite  from  the 
wiles  of  his  persecutors,  when  one  morning  he  was  forced 
to  come  down  into  the  store  in  his  working  gear,  well  be 
spattered  with  oleaginous  substances,  dust  and  dirt ;  in  this 
gear,  Charley  presented  about  as  ugly  and  primitive  a  look 
ing  Christian,  as  might  not  often — before  California  life 
was  dreamed  of — be  seen  in  a  city.  We  did  quite  an  ex 
tensive  retail  trade — the  store  was  rarely  free  from  ton-ish. 
citizens,  mostly  "fine  ladies,"  in  quest  of  fine  perfumes, 
soaps,  oils,  etc.,  to  sweeten  and  decorate  their  own  beautiful 
selves.  But,  before  venturing  in,  our  beau  had  an  eye 
about  the  horizon,  to  see  that  no  impediments  offered; 
things  looked  safe,  and  in  comes  the  beau. 

WTe  were  upon  very  fair  terms  with  Charley,  and  he  was 
wont  to  regale  us  with  many  of  his  long  stories  about  the 
company  he  faced  into,  the  "conquests"  he  made,  and  the 
times  he  had  with  this  and  that,  in  high  life.  Fanny  Kemble 
was  about  that  time — belle  of  the  season  !  Lioness  of  the 
day  1  setting  corduroy  in  a  high  fever,  and  raising  an  awful 
furore — generally  !  Alas  1  how  soon  such  things — cave 
in! 

Charley  got  behind  the  counter  to  stow  away  some  arti 
cles  he  had  brought  down,  and  began  one  of  his  usual 
harangues  : 

"  Theatre,  last  night,  Jack?" 

"  No  ;  couldn't  get  off;  wanted  to,"  said  we. 

"  0,  you  missed  a  grand  opportunity  to  see  the  fashion 
beauty  and  wealthy  people  of  this  city  !  Such  a  house  1 
Crowded  from  pit  to  dome,  met  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  my 
friends — ladies  of  the  first  families  in  town,  with  all  the 
*  high  boys'  of  my  acquaintance  !" 

"And  how  did  Fanny  do  Juliet?"  we  asked. 


MISERIES   OF   A   DANDY.  288 

"  Do  it  ?  Elegant !  I  sat  in  the  second  stage  box  with 
the  two  Misses  W.  (Chestnut  street  belles  !)  and  Colonel 
S.  and  Sam.  G-.,  and  his  sister  (all  nobs  of  course  !),  and 
they  were  truly  entranced  with  Miss  Kernble's  Juliet !  I 
threw  for  Miss  G.  her  elegant  bouquet, — Fanny  kissed  her 
fingers  to  me,  and  with  a  look  at  me,  as  I  stood  up  so — 
(the  beau  gave  a  tall  rear  up  and  was  about  to  spread  him 
self,  when  glancing  at  the  door,  he  sees — two  ladies  !  right 
in  the  store  !)  thunder  /"  he  exclaims. 

If  the  beau  had  been  hit  by  a  streak  of  lightning,  he 
would  not  have  dropped  sooner  than  he  did,  behind  the 
counter. 

The  ladies  proved  to  be  nobody  else  than  those  of  the 
very  two  Misses  W.  themselves  ;  they  lived  close  by,  and 
frequently  came  to  the  store.  Beneath  our  counter  were 
endless  packages,  broken  glass,  refuse  oils,  rancid  perfumes, 
dust,  dirt,  grease,  charcoal,  soap,  and  about  everything  else 
dingy  and  offensive  to  the  eye  and  nose.  The  place  afforded 
a  wretched  refuge  for  a  hull  so  big  and  nice  as  our  beau's, 
but  there  he  was,  much  in  our  way  too,  with  the  mournful 
fact,  for  Charley,  that  if  those  "  fine  ladies"  stayed  less 
than  half  an  hour,  without  overhauling  about  every  article 
in  the  store,  it  would  be  a  white  stone  indeed  in  the  for 
tunes  of  the  beau  !  The  ladies  sat ;  they  dickered  and  ex 
amined — we  exhibited  and  put  away,  the  beau  lying  crouch 
ed  and  crucifying  at  our  feet,  and  we  sniggering  fit  to 
burst  at  the  contretemps  of  the  poor  victim.  Charley 
stood  it  with  the  most  heroic  resignation  for  full  twenty 
minutes,  when  the  two  Misses  W.  got  up  to  go.  Casting 
their  eyes  towards  the  door,  who  should  be  about  to  pass 
but  the  divine  Fanny  1 

Fanny  Kemble  !  Seeing  the  two  Misses  W.,  whose  re 
cognition  and  acquaintance  was  worth  cultivating — even 
by  the  haughty  queen  of  the  drama  and  belle  of  the  hour ; 
she  rushed  in,  they  all  had  a  talk — and  you  know  how  wo- 


284  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

men  can  talk,  will  talk  for  an  hour  or  two,  all  about  no- 

thing  in  particular,  except  to  talk.  Imagine  our  beau, 

"Pliancy  his  phelinks,"  as  Yellow  Plush  says,  and  to 
heighten  the  effect,  in  comes  the  boss  !  He  comes  behind 

the  counter — he  sees  poor  Charley  sprawling he  roars 

out : 

"  By  Jupiter  !     Mr.  Whackstack,  are  you  sick  ?  dead?" 

11  Dead  ?"  utters  Fanny. 

"  A  man  dead  behind  your  counter,  sir  ?"  scream  the 
Misses  W.  ! 

With  one  desperate  splurge,  up  jumps  the  beau  ;  rushes 
out,  up  stairs — gets  on  his  clothes,  and  we  did  not  see  him 
again  for  over  two  years  ! 


ilt !« 

WE  observed  a  small  transaction  last  Wednesday  noon, 
on  Hanover  street,  that  wasn't  so  coarse  for  an  urchin 
hardly  out  of  his  swaddling  clouts.  He  was  a  cunning- 
looking  little  fellow,  and  poking  his  head  into  a  shoe 
shop,  he  bawls  out  in  a  very  keen,  fine,  silvery  voice — 

"S-a-a-y,  Mister-r-r — " 
'  Eh  ? — what  ?"  says  the  shop-keeper. 

"  Somebody's  got  your  boots  out  here  1" 

Supposing,  of  course,  that  somebody  was  pegging  away 
with  a  bunch  of  his  wares  at  the  door,  Lapstone  rushes  out 
and  cries — 

"  Where  ?" 

"  There,"  says  the  shaver;  "they're  there— somebody's 
got  'em — hung  up  'long  your  window  there." 

Lapstone  seized  a  box  lid  to  give  the  juvenile  joker  a 
flip,  but  he  scooted,  grinning  and  ha  !  ha  J-ing  in  the  most 
provoking  strain. 


a  1  anblorh. 


DURING  the  great  gathering  of  people  in  Quaker- 
dom,  while  the  Whigs  were  dovetailing  in  Old  Zack, 
an  artful  dodger,  a  queer  quizzing  Boston  friend  of  mine, 
thought  a  little  side  play  wouldn't  be  out  of  the  way,  so  to 
work  he  goes  to  get  up  a  muss,  and  I'll  tell  you  how  he 
managed  it,  nice  as  wax. 

Among  the  Boston  delegates — self-constituted,  a  la  Gen. 
Commander — was  a  certain  gentleman,  remarkable  for  his 
probity,  decorum,  and  extreme  sensitiveness.  Well,  A., 
the  wag,  and  B.,  the  victim.,  landed  together,  but  selected, 
in  the  general  overflow  and  hurly-burly,  different  lodgings. 
Next  morning,  A.  finds  B.  stowed  away  in  . — . — 's  Hotel, 
fine  as  a  fiddle,  snug  as  a  bug,  in  a  good  room,  and  doing 
about  as  well  as  could  be  expected.  A.  had  had  indiffer 
ent  luck,  and  the  quarters  he  had  lit  upon  were  any  thing 
but  comfortable,  the  inmates  of  the  Hotel  being  stowed 
away  in  tiers,  like  herrings  in  a  box.  A.  thought  he'd  oust 
his  innocent  and  unsuspecting  friend,  and  crack  his  joke, 
if  it  cost  a  law  suit,  just  for  the  sake  of  variety. 

With  the  address,  and  partly  the  dress — a  white  hat — of 

a  man  of  the  mace,  A.  steps  up  to  the  bar  of 's  Hotel, 

and  after  carefully  scrutinizing  the  register,  finds  the  auto 
graph  of  the  victim,  then  smiles  suspiciously,  enough  to 
say  to  the  observant  bar-keeper — 

"Aha!  I've  found  him  !"  Then  leaning  cautiously  for 
ward  towards  that  person,  says  A. — 

"  Is  this  man  here  yet  ?     Is  he  in  the  house  ?" 

"I  b'leave  he  is,  sur, — I  know  he  is,  sur,"  says  the  Mile 
sian,  overlooking  the  register  himself. 

(285) 


286  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Come  here  last  niglit  ?"  continues  A.,  in  his  suspicious 
strain. 

"He  did,  sur  !"  answers  the  grog-mixer. 

"  Has  nothing  but  a  valise  and  umbrella  ?"  says  A. 

"  Nothing  else,  sur,  I  believe,"  is  the  reply. 

"  That's  him  !  that's  him  !  I've  found  him  !"  exultantly 
exclaims  A.,  while  the  bar-keeper  and  landlord,  who  had 
now  come  forward,  eagerly  wanted  to  know  if  any  thing 
was  wrong  with  the  gentleman  whose  arrival  was  being 
discussed. 

"  Step  aside,  sir,"  says  A.  to  the  proprietor  ;  "I  don't 
want  any  disturbance  made,  at  such  a  time  ;  it  might  do 
your  fine  establishment  more  harm  than  good  ;  but,  there  is 
a  person  stopping  in  your  house  that  I  have  followed  from 
Boston  ;  I  have  kept  my  eye  on  his  movements  (!)  ;  I  know 

his   designs,  his  practices,   well;    I'm    on    his    track he 

dodged  me  last  night,  but  I've  found  him " 

"  Well,  do  you  pretend  to  assert  that  this  man  (scrutiniz 
ing  the  register)  is  a  pick-pocket,  a  thief,  or  something  of 
the  kind,  sir  ?"  earnestly  inquired  the  proprietor. 

11  You  keep  mum,  sir,"  said  A.,  coolly  tapping  the  lap- 
pel  of  the  landlord's  coat— "  I've  got  him  safe!  Let 
him  rest  for  awhile — I've  got  him  I  Do  you  understand  ?" 
says  the  wag,  winking  a  knowing,  significant  wink  at  the 
landlord. 

"  No,  cuss  me  if  I  do  understand  you,  sir  !"  sharply  re 
plies  the  landlord.  "If  there  is  a  dangerous  or  disreputa 
ble  person  in  my  house,  sir,  I  would  thank  you  to  tell  me, 
sir,  and  I  will  soon  put  him  where  the  dogs  won't  bite  him, 
sir !" 

"  There  is  no  use  of  unnecessary  alarm,  my  friend,"  says 
A.,  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  the  truth  is,  this  person  whom  I  have 
followed  here,  has  made  a  heavy  draw  on  one  of  our  Bos 
ton  banks,  by  means  of  certain  checks  and  certificates, 
and—" 


"  SELLING"  A  LANDLORD.  287 

11  Oho  !  That's  it,  eh  ?"  interposes  the  landlord,  begin 
ning  to  see  his  guest  in  a  more  dignified  light,  that  of  a 
splendid  thief;  so  his  rigid  frown,  called  in  play  by  the 
supposition  that  a  petty  rascal  was  on  his  premises,  sub 
sided  into  a  wise  smile,  which  A.  interrupts  with — 

"You've  hit  it;  but  keep  quiet!  Don't  let  us  go  too 
far  before  we're  sure  the  bird  is  in  our  cage.  He's  worth 
attending  to  ;  I'm  not  sure  he's  got  the  abstracted  money 
about  him  ;  but  when  he  settles  with  you,  just  notice  the 
size  of  his  wallet,  and  its  contents  ;  may  have  an  officer 
handy,  if  you  like.  If  he  has  a  large  roll  of  notes,  espe 
cially  on  the  Traders'  Bank,  nab  him,  and  keep  him  until  I 
come,"  said  A. 

"Where  do  you  stop,  sir?"  inquired  the  landlord. 

"  At  the ,  Chestnut  street,"  A.  replies. 

"  Shall  be  attended  to,  sir,  I  warrant  you.  Is  there  a 
reward  out,  sir,  for  this  person  ?"  says  the  landlord. 

"  0  !  no  ;  it  has  all  been  kept  quiet.  Policy,  you  see  ; 
he  left  in  such  a  hurry,  he  thought  he'd  be  lost  sight  of  in 
this  crowd  here  in  your  city.  If  he  has  the  money,  we'll 
make  '  a  spec,'  you  understand  ?" 

"I  see,  I  see,"  said  the  befogged  landlord  ;  "  I'll  keep 
a  sharp  look  out  for  him,  and  let  you  know  the  moment  I 
find  him  fairly  out." 

That  afternoon,  as  B.  called  for  his  bill  at  the  bar  of 

's  Hotel,  the  landlord  was  about,  all  in  a  twitter,  with 

two  policemen  in  the  distance,  and  sundry  especial  friends 
hanging  about,  to  whom  the  landlord  had  unbosomed  the 
affair.  All  were  anxiously  watching  the  result  of  the  busi 
ness.  B.  hands  forth  his  capacious  wallet,  stuffed  with 
"  documents"  of  the  Traders'  Bank,  of  Boston, — from  which 
institution  he  had  drawn  a  pile  of  funds,  to  invest  in  coal 
at  Richmond, — and  no  sooner  did  B.  place  an  X,  of  the 
Traders'  Bank,  upon  the  bar,  than  the  excited  landlord's 
eyes  danced  like  shot  on  a  hot  shovel,  and  giving  the  con- 


288  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

stables  the  cue,  poor  B.  found  himsesf  wailed  upon,  in  a 
brace  of  shakes,  by  those  two  custodians,  while  the  land 
lord  grabbed  the  wallet  out  of  B.'s  hand,  with  a  suddenness 
that  completely  mesmerized  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  the  landlord  to  the  officers,  "  do  your 
duty  !» 

''Why,  look  here  !"  says  B.,  squirming  about  in  the 
grasp  of  the  officers,  and  reaching  over  for  the  landlord 
and  his  wallet — "  what  the  thunder  are  you  about?  Come, 
I  say,  none  of  your  darn'd  nonsense  now  ;  let  me  go,  I  tell 
you,  and  hand  back  that  wallet,  Mister ." 

But  B.  was  "a  goner."  They  favored  him  with  no  ex 
planation,  of  course,  and  were  about  trotting  him  forth  to 
the  Mayor's  office,  when  a  well  known  Anthracite  mer 
chant  came  in,  in  quest  of  B. — Some  inquiry  followed,  ex 
planation  ensued,  and  the  result  was,  that  after  poor  B. 
got  a  little  reconciled  to  the  joke,  he  joined  issue  with  a 
laughing  chorus  at  the  expense  of  the  sold  landlord,  who, 
ill  consideration  of  all  hands  keeping  mum,  put  the  party 
through  a  course  of  juleps. 

I  may  as  well  observe,  that  I  regret  there  is  no  par 
ticular  moral  to  this  sketch. 


Sntniific 

"BOB,  what  yer  doing  now?" 
"Aiding  Nat'ral  History." 

"Aiding  Nat'ral  History — what  do  yer  mean  by  that?" 
"Why  every  time  the  kangaroo  jumps  over  the  monkey, 
I  hold  his  tail  up." 


..-. 


iii  |p0cr 

I  DO  not  know  a  feminine — from  the  piney  woods  of 
Maine  to  the  Neuces-r— so  given  to  popularity,  news 
paper  philippics,  and  city  item  bombards,  as  Aunt  Nabby 
Folsom,  of  the  town  of  Boston.  The  name  and  doings  of 
Aunt  Nabby  are  linked  with  nearly  all  popular  cabals  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  the  "Temple,"  "Chapel,"  or  Melodeon— 
from  funeral  orations  to  political  caucusses — •Temperance 
jubilee's  to  Abolition  flare  ups  ;  for  Aunt  Nabby  never 
.allows  wind,  weather  or  subject,  time,  place  or  occasion,  to 
prevent  her  "full  attendance."  The  police,  and  over-zeal 
ous  auditors,  at  times  snake  her  doiun  or  crowd  her  old 
straw  bonnet,  but  Aunt  Nabby  is  always  sure  of  the  polite 
attention  of  the  "  Reporters,"  and  shines  in  their  notes, 
big  as  the  biggest  toad  in  the  puddle. 

Indeed,  Aunt  Nabby  is  one  of  'em  ! — a  perfect  she-male 
Mike  Walsh.  She  will  have  her  say,  though  a  legion  of 
constables  stood  at  the  door ;  her  principal  stand-point  is 
the  freedom  of  speech  and  woman's  rights,  and  she  goes  in 
tooth  and  nail  agin  law,  Marshal  Tukey,  and  the  entire 
race-root  and  rind  of  the  Quincys — particularly  strong  ! 
Aunt  Nabby  is  subject  to  a  series,  too  tedious  to  mention, 
of  " sells"  by  the  quidnuncs  and  rapscallions  of  the  day, 
and  one  of  these  "  sells"  is  the  pith  of  my  present  paper. 

It  so  fell  out,  when  Jenny  Lind  arrived  here,  about  every 
fool  within  five-and -fifty  miles  ran  their  heels  and  brazen 
faces  after  the  Nightingale  and  her  carriage  wherever  she 
went,  from  her  bed-chamber  to  her  dinner  table,  from  her 
drawing-room  to  the  Concert  Hall.  It  took  Barnum  and 
his  whole  "  private  secretary"  force  and  equal  number  of 
!8  (289) 


290  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

policemen  and  servants,  besides  Stephens  himself,  of  the 
Revere,  and  his  bar-keeper,  to  keep  the  mob  from  rushing 
pell-mell  up  stairs  and  surrounding  Jenny  as  Paddy  did  the 
Hessians. 

Now  and  then  a  desperate  fellow  got  in — had  an  audi 
ence,  grinned,  backed  down  and  went  his  way,  tickled  as  a 
dog  with  two  tails.  Others  were  victimized  by  notes  from 
Barnum  (!)  or  Miss  Lind's  "  private  secretary,"  offering  an 
interview,  and  many  of  these  transactions  were  "  rich  and 
racy"  enough,  in  all  conscience,  for  the  pages  of  a  modern 
Joe  Miller.  But  Aunt  Nabby  Folsom's  time  was  about 
as  rich  as  the  raciest,  and  will  bear  rehearsing — easy. 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  said  a  pleasing-looking,  neatly- 
dressed,  elderly  lady,  to  the  two  scant  yards  of  starch  and 
dickey  behind  Stephens'  slab  of  marble  at  the  Revere. 

"  Good  morning,  ma'am,"  responded  the  dark,  who,  not 
knowing  exactly  who  the  lady  was,  jerked  down  his  well- 
oiled  and  brushed  "  wig  and  whiskers"  to  the  entire  satisfac 
tion  of  the  matronly  lady,  who  went  on  to  say — 

"  I  wish  to  see  Miss  Lind,  sir." 

"Guess  she's  engaged,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  but  I've  an  invitation,  sir,  from  Miss  Lind,  to 
call  at  9  A.  M.  to-day.  I  like  to  be  punctual,  sir  ;  my  time 
is  quite  precious  ;  I  called  precisely  as  desired  ;  Miss  Lind 
appointed  the  time  ;  and— 

"  Oh,  very  well,  very  well,  ma'am,"  said  the  dark,  with 
a  flourish,  "if  Miss  Lind  has  invited  you " 

"  Why,  of  course  she  has  !  Here's  her — " 

"0,  never  mind,  ma'am  ;  all  correct,  I  presume." 

The  "  pipes"  and  bells  soon  had  the  attendance  of  a  gang 
of  white-jacketed,  polish-faced  Paddies,  and  the  elderly 
lady  was  marshalled,  double-file,  towards  the  apartments  of 
the  Nightingale. 

Jenny  had  but  just  "turned  out,"  and  was  "feeding" 
on  the  right  wing  and  left  breast  of  a  lark,  the  leg  of  a 


WHO   WAS   THAT    POOR   WOMAN  ?  291 

canary,  "  a  dozen  fried"  humming  bird  eggs — her  custo 
mary  fodder  of  a  morning. 

The  servants  passed  the  countersigns,  and  the  elderly 
lady  was  admitted — the  Nightingale,  without  disturbing.the 
ample  folds  of  her  camel's  hair  dressing-gown — a  present 
from  the  Sultan  of  all  the  Turkies,  cost  $3,000 — motioned 
the  matron  to  squat,  and  as  soon  as  she  got  her  throat  in 
talking  order,  said — 

"  Goot  mornins." 

"How  do  you  do  ?"  responds  the  old  lady. 

"  Pooty  well,  tank'ees.  You  have  some  breakest  ?  No  !" 

"  No,  ma'am.     I've  had  my  breakfast  three  hours  ago." 

"  Yes  ?  indeed  !  you  rise  up  early,  eh  ? — Well,  it  is  goot 
for  ze  hels,  eh  ?" 

"  So  my  doctor  says,"  responded  the  matron.  "  But  I 
like  to  get  up  and  be  stirring  around." 

"  Ah !  yes  ;  you  stir  around,  eh  ?  What  you  stir 
around  ?" 

"  Well,  Miss  Lind,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  stir  around.  I- 
stir-the-monsters  (Miss  Lind  looks  sharp)  who-try-to-tram- 
ple-on-the-universal-rights-o/-vjom<m/  (The  matron  "up" 
and  gesticulating  like  the  brakes  of  an  engine — Miss  Lind 
drops  her  eating  tools — eyes  of  the  two  servants  bulge 
out !)  A-n-d  I-stir-the-demagogues-who-assemble-HKFa- 
neuil-Hall  (down  with  the  brakes  !),  to  prevent-the-freedom- 
of-speech  (rush  upon  the  brakes  !),  a-a-n-d-put-me-down  1" 

It  was  evident  that  the  appetite  of  the  Nightingale  was 
getting  spoiled — she  looked  suspicious,  and,  just  in  time  to 
prevent  the  female  orator — who  was  no  other  personage, 
of  course,  than  Aunt  Nabby  Folsom,  from  ripping  into  a 
regular  caucus  fanfaronade  of  gamboge  and  gas,  a  knock 
upon  the  door  announced  a  "  call"  for  Miss  Lind,  to  dress 
and  appear  to  a  fresh  lot  of  bores — yclept  the  Mayor  and 
his  suit  of  Deacons,  soup,  pork  and  bean-venders. 

"  Ah  !  yes  ;  I  will  be  ready  in  one  min't.     Madame,  you 


292  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

will  please  come  again  ;  once  more,  adieu. — good  mornins 
— adieu  !" 

And  Aunt  Nabby,  in  spite  of  her  ancient  teeth,  found 
herself  bowed — half  way  down  stairs — into  the  hall,  and 
clean  out  doors,  before  she  caught  her  breath  to  say  an 
other  word  upon  the  interminable  subject  of  the  freedom  of 
speech  and  woman's  rights  ! 

But  Aunt  Nabby  "blowed" — 0!  didn't  she  blow  to 
the  various  tea  and  toast  coteries,  scandal  and  slang  ex 
press  women — and  the  various  knots  of  anxious  crowds  who 
stood  about  Bowdoin  Square  during  the  Lind  mania  I 
Aunt  Nabby  had  had  a  genuine  tete-a-tete  with  the  Night 
ingale — and,  ecod,  an  invitation  to  call  again  !  But 
Jenny  Lind,  and  her  cordon  of  sentinels,  secretaries  and 
suckers,  were  "  fly"  for  the  old  screech  owl,  when  again 
and  again  she  beset  the  dark  and  the  stairways  of  the  Re 
vere.  Though  Aunt  Nabby  hung  on  and  growled  dread 
fully,  she  finally  caved  in  and  kept  away. 

When  Jenny  Lind  gave  the  proceeds  of  one  concert  to 
charitable  purposes,  among  the  items  set  down  in  the  list 
was — "  A  poor  woman — one  hundred  dollars  /" 

"  Why,  it's  you,  of  course,"  said  a  quid-nunc,  to  Aunt 
Abby,  as  she  held  the  Evening  Transcript  in  her  hands,  in 
the  store  of  Redding  &  Co.,  and  observed  the  interesting 
item  above  alluded  to. 

"  Well,  so  I  think,"  says  Aunt  Nabby.  "If  I  ain't  a 
poor  woman,  and  a  var-tuous  woman,  and  a  good  and  true 
woman  (down  came  her  brakes  on  the  book  piles),  I'd  like 
to  know  where — where,  on  this  univarsal  yearth  (down 
with  the  brakes),  you'd  find  one  !  One  hundred  dollars  to 
a  poor  woman,"  she  continued,  reading  the  item.  "  I  must 
be  the  person — yes,  Abigail,  thou  art  the  man!"  she  con 
cluded  in  her  favorite  apothegm. 

The  quid  gave  Abby  the  residence  of  the  Agent  (!)  who 
was  to  disburse  the  Lind  charities,  and  away  went  Abby 


INFIRMITIES    OF    NATURE.  293 

to  the  Agent,  who  happened  to  be  an  amateur  joker  ;  know 
ing  Aunt  Abby,  and  smelling  a  "  sell,"  he  told  the  old  'un 
that  Mr.  Somerby,  of  No.  —  Cornhill,  the  joker  of  the 
Post,  was  the  Agent,  and  would  shell  out  next  morning,  at 
nine  o'clock.  At  that  hour,  S.  had  Aunt  Nabby  in  his 
sanctum.  He  knew  the  ropes,  so  assured  Abby  that  there 
was  a  mistake ;  Charles  Davenport,  of  Cornhill,  rear  of 
Joy's  building,  was  the  man.  Charles  D.  informed  Aunt 
Nabby,  that  he  had  declined  to  disburse  for  Miss  Lind,  but 
that  Bro.  Norris,  of  the  Yankee  Blade,  had  the  pile,  and 
was  serving  it  out  to  an  excited  mob.  Norris  declared 
that  she  was  in  error.  She  was  not,  by  a  jug  full,  the  only, 
poor  woman  in  town,  and  didn't  begin  to  be  the  poor  woman 
set  forth  in  Miss  Lind's  schedule  !  But  Aunt  Nabby  wasn't 
to  be  done  !  She  besieged  Miss  Lind — followed  her  to  the 
cars — mounted  the  platform — Jenny  espied  her,  and  to 
avoid  a  harangue  on  the  freedom  of  speech  and  woman's 
rights,  hid  her  head  in  her  cloak.  The  last  exclamation  the 
Nightingale  heard  from  the  screech  owl,  was — 
"  Miss  Jane  Lind — who  was  that  poor  wom-a-n  ?" 


Infirmities  0f  g 

SOME  folks  are  easily  glorified.  We  once  knew  a  man 
who  became  so  elated  because  he  was  elected  first  sergeant 
in  the  militia,  that  he  went  home  and  put  a  silver  plate  on 
his  door.  Ollapod,  in  speaking  of  this  kind  of  people, 
makes  mention  of  one  Sabin,  who  was  so  overjoyed  the  first 
time  he  saw  his  name  in  the  list  of  letters,  advertised  by  the 
post-office,  that  he  called  his  friends  together  and  put  them 
through  on  woodcock. 


ackson  auto  jjis 


IT  is  a  most  singular,  or  at  least  curious  fact,  connected 
with  the  histories  of  most  all  eminent  men,  that  they 
were  denied  —  by  the  decrees  of  stern  poverty,  or  an  all-wise 
Providence  —  those  facilities  and  indulgences  supposed  to 
be  so  essentially  necessary  for  the  future  success  and  pros 
perous  career  of  young  men,  but  acted  as  "  whetstones"  to 
sharpen  and  develop  their  true  temper  !  The  fact  is  very 
vivid  in  the  early  history  of  Andrew  Jackson  —  a  name  that, 
like  that  of  the  great,  godlike  Washington,  must  survive  the 
wreck  of  matter,  the  crush  of  worlds,  and,  passing  down  the 
vista  of  each  successive  age,  brighter  and  more  glorious, 
unto  those  generations  yet  to  come,  when  time  shall  have 
obliterated  the  asperities  of  partisan  feeling,  and  learned  to 
deal  most  gently  with  the  human  frailties  of  the  illustrious 
dead. 

Andrew  Jackson,  senior,  emigrated  from  Ireland  in  1765, 
with  his  wife  and  two  boys  —  Hugh  and  Robert,  both  very 
young;  they  landed  at  Charleston,  S.  C.,  where  Jackson 
found  employment  as  a  laborer,  and  continued  to  work 
thus  for  several  years,  until,  possessed  of  a  few  dollars,  he 
went  to  the  interior  of  the  state  and  bought  a  small  place 
near  Waxhaw.  About  this  time,  1767,  Andrew  Jackson,  Jr., 
was  born,  and  during  the  next  year  —  by  the  time  the  infant 
could  lisp  the  name  of  his  parent  —  the  father  fell  sick  of  fever 
and  died.  Mrs.  Jackson,  left  with  three  srriall  children,  in 
an  almost  wild  country,  where  nothing  but  toil  of  a  severe 
and  arduous  kind  could  provide  a  subsistence,  was  indeed 
in  a  most  grievous  situation.  But  she  appears  to  have  been 
a  woman  of  no  ordinary  temperament,  courage,  arid  perse- 
(294) 


ANDREW   JACKSON   AND    HIS    MOTHER.  295 

verance,  for  she  continued  cheerfully  the  work  left  her — 
rearing  her  boys,  and  preparing  them  for  the  situations  in 
life  they  might  be  destined  to  fill.  Mrs.  Jackson  was  a 
woman  of  some  information,  and  a  strong  advocate  for  the 
rights  and  liberties  of  men  ;  as,  it  is  said,  she  not  only  gave 
her  boys  their  first  rudiments  of  an  English  education,  but 
often  indulged  in  glowing  lectures  to  them  of  the  import 
ance  of  instilling  in  their  hearts  and  principles  an  unrelent 
ing  war  against  pomp,  power,  and  circumstance  of  monarch 
ical  governments  and  institutions  !  She  led  them  to  know 
that  they  were  born  free  and  equal  with  the  best  of  earth, 
and  that  that  position  was  to  be  their  heritage — maintained 
even  at  the  peril  of  life  and  property  !  and  how  well  he 
learned  these  chivalric  lessons,  the  countrymen  of  Andrew 
Jackson  need  not  now  be  told,  as  it  was  exemplified  in  every 
page  of  his  whole  history. 

Hugh,  Robert,  and  Andrew,  were  now  the  widow's  hope 
and  treasures ;  Hugh  and  Robert  were  her  main  depen 
dence  in  working  their  little  farm,  and  Andrew,  never  a 
very  robust  person,  was  early  sent  to  the  best  schools  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  much  care  taken  by  his  mother  to 
have  him  at  least  educated  for  a  profession — the  ministry. 
This  resolve  was  more  perhaps  decided  upon  from  the  na 
turally  stern,  contemplative,  and  fixed  principles  of  young 
Jackson  ;  as  at  the  early  age  of  fifteen,  he  was  by  nature 
well  prepared  for  the  scenes  being  enacted  around  him,  and 
in  which,  even  those  young  as  himself,  were  called  upon  to 
take  an  active  part.  This  was  in  the  days  of  the  revolu 
tion,  when  the  weak  in  numbers  of  this  continent  were 
about  to  try  the  experiment  of  living  free  and  independent, 
and  establish  the  fact  that  royalty  was  an  imposition  and  a 
humbug,  only  maintained  by  arrogance  and  pomp  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet. 

The  British  had  begun  the  war — already  had  the  echoes 
of  "Bunker  Hill,'-  and  the  smell  of  "villainous  saltpetre,'' 


296  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

invaded  and  aroused  the  quiet  dwellers  in  the  woods  and 
wilds  of  South  Carolina,  and  the  chivalric  spirit  that  has 
ever  characterized  the  men  of  the  Palmetto  state,  at  once 
responded  to  the  tocsin  of  liberty.  It  was  with  no  slight 
degree  of  sorrow  and  aching  of  the  mother's  heart,  that  she 
saw  her  two  sons,  Hugh  and  Robert,  shoulder  their  mus 
kets  and  join  the  Spartan  band  that  assembled  at  Waxhaw 
Court-house.  But  she  blessed  her  children  and  gave  up 
her  holy  claim  of  a  mother's  love,  for  the  common  cause  of 
the  infant  nation. 

Cornwallis  and  his  army  crossed  the  Yadkin,  Lord  Raw- 
den,  with  a  large  force,  took  the  town  of  Camden,  and 
began  a  desolation  of  the  adjacent  country.  Being  ap 
prised  of  a  "  rebel  force"  in  arms  at  Waxhaw,  he  imme 
diately  dispatched  a  company  of  dragoons,  with  a  company 
of  infantry,  to  capture  or  disperse  the  "rebels."  About 
forty  men,  including  the  two  boys  Jackson,  were  attacked 
by  these  veterans  of  the  British  army,  but  aided  by  their 
true  courage,  a  good  cause,  and  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
country,  they  gave  the  invaders  a  hot  reception,  and  many 
of  the  enemy  were  killed  ;  and  not  until  having  made  the 
most  determinate  resistance,  and  being  overwhelmed  by  the 
great  majority  of  the  opposing  forces,  did  these  patriots 
retreat,  leaving  many  of  their  friends  dead  upon  their  soil, 
and  eleven  of  their  number  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the 
British.  It  was  during  this  fight  that  Andrew  Jackson — a 
mere  lad — hearing  the  noise  of  the  conflict,  while  he  sat  in 
the  log-house  of  his  mother,  besought  her  to  allow  him  to 
take  his  father's  gun,  arid  fly  to  join  his  brothers.  And  it 
was  vain  that  the  parent  restrained  him,  knowing  the  tem 
perament  of  the  boy,  from  this  dangerous  determination  ; 
for  with  one  warm  embrace  and  parting  kiss  upon  the  brow 
of  his  mother,  Andrew  Jackson  buckled  on  his  powder- 
horn  and  bullet-pouch,  and  rushed  to  the  scene  of  battle. 
But  his  friends  were  already  flying,  and  hotly  pursued  by 


ANDREW  JACKSON  AND  HIS  MOTHER.     297 

the  enemy.  Andrew  met  his  brother  Robert,  who  informed 
him  of  the  death  of  their  elder  brother,  Hugh;  the  two 
boys  now  fled  together  and  concealed  themselves  in  the 
woods,  where  they  lay  until  hunger  drove  them  forth — they 
sought  food  at  a  farm  house,  the  owner  of  which  proved  to 
be  a  lory,  and  gave  information  to  some  soldiers  in  the  vi 
cinity the  Jacksons  were  both  captured  and  led  to  prison. 

In  the  affray — for  they  yielded  only  by  force— Robert  was 
cut  on  the  head  by  a  sword  in  the  hands  of  a  petty  officer, 
and  he  died  in  great  agony  in  prison.  It  was  here  and 
then  that  the  firm  and  manly  bearing  of  the  boy  was  exhi 
bited;  for  he  stood  his  griefs  and  imprisonment  like  a  true 
hero.  Not  a  tear  escaped  him  by  which  his  enemies  might 
be  led  to  believe  he  feared  their  power,  or  wavered  in  his 
allegiance  to  the  cause  of  his  country. 

"  Here,  boy,  clean  my  boots  I"  said  an  officer  to  him. 
But  the  bright  defiant  eye  of  the  boy  smote  the  captor  with 
a  look,  and  as  he  curled  his  firm  lips  in  scorn,  he  answered, 

"No,  sir,  I  will  not!" 

"You  won't?  I'll  tie  you,  you  young  saucy  rebel,  to 
your  post,  and  skin  your  back  with  a  horse  whip,  if  you  do 
not  clean  my  boots." 

"Do  it,"  said  the  lion-hearted  boy— "for  I'll  not  stoop 
to  clean  the  boots  of  your  master  !" 

The  infuriated  ruffian  drew  his  sword,  and  to  defend  his 
head  from  the  blow,  Andrew  threw  up  his  little  hand  and 
received  a  gash — the  scar  of  which  went  with  him  to  the 
tomb  at  the  Hermitage.  A  Captain  Walker,  of  South  Ca 
rolina,  with  a  dozen  or  twenty  men,  during  the  imprison 
ment  of  Andrew  Jackson,  made  a  desperate  charge  upon  a 
company  of  the  British,  near  Camden,  and  captured  thirteen 
of  them  ;  these  prisoners  he  exchanged  for  seven  of  his 
countrymen,  including  the  boy  Andrew  Jackson,  prisoners 
of  the  enemy.  Andrew  hurried  home — his  poor  old  mother 
was  upon  her  death  bed,  attended  by  an  old  negro  nurse  of 


298  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

the  Jackson  family,  and  suffering  not  only  from  the  great 
multitude  of  grief  consequent  upon  the  death  of  her  heroic 
sons,  but  for  want  of  the  common  necessaries  of  life,  the 
invaders  having  stripped  the  widow  of  her  last  pound  of 
provisions.  The  life-spark  rekindled  in  the  eye  of  the  mo 
ther,  as  she  beheld  her  darling  boy  safe  at  her  bedside 

she  grasped  his  hand  with  the  firmness  of  a  dying  woman, 
and  turning  her  eyes  upon  the  now  weeping  boy,  said, 

11  Andrew,  I  leave  you, — son,  you  will  soon  be  alone  in 

the  world  ;  be  faithful,  be  true  to  God  and  your  country 

that — when — the  hour  of  death  approaches  you — will  have 
— nothing  to — dread — every  thing — to  hope  for." 
*  *  *  *  *  * 

Andrew  was  taken  ill  after  the  burial  of  his  mother,  and 
but  for  the  constant  and  tender  care  of  the  old  black  nurse 
— the  last  of  the  Jackson  family — would  have  then  passed 
away ;  he  recovered — he  was  alone — not  a  relative  in  the 
world  ;  poor,  and  in  a  land  ravaged  by  a  foreign  foe,  could 
a  boy  be  more  desolate  and  lonely  ?  With  a  few  "effects" 
thrown  upon  his  shoulders,  he  went  to  North  Carolina,  Sa 
lisbury,  where  he  entered  the  office  of  a  famed  lawyer — 
Spruce  M'Cay — was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1178 — went  to 
Tennessee— served  as  a  soldier  in  the  Indian  wars  of  1783— 
chosen  a  Senator  1797 — Major  General  in  1801 — whipped 
the  British  in  the  most  conclusive  manner  at  New  Orleans 
in  1815,  and  triumphantly  elected  President  of  the  United 
States  for  eight  years  in  1829.  Andrew  Jackson  followed 
his  mother's  advice,  and  he  not  only  triumphed  over  his 
hard  fortune,  but  died  a  Christian,  full  of  hope,  in  1845. 


0nt 


WE  have  roared  until  our  ribs  fairly  ached,  at  the 
relation  of  the  following  "  item"  on  sturgeons,  by 
a  loquacious  friend  of  ours  :  — 

It  appears  our  friend  was  located  on  the  Kennebec  river, 
a  few  years  ago,  and  had  a  number  of  hands  employed  about 
a  dam,  and  the  sturgeons  were  very  numerous  and  extremely 
docile.  They  would  frequently  come  poking  their  noses 
close  up  to  the  men  standing  in  the  water,  and  one  of  the  men 
bethought  him  how  delicious  a  morsel  of  pickled  sturgeon 
was,  and  he  forthwith  made  a  preparation  to  "  snake  out"  a 
clever-sized  fish.  Getting  an  iron  rod  at  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  close  at  hand,  he  bends  up  one  end  like  a  fish  hook, 
and,  slipping  out  into  the  stream,  he  slily  places  the  hook 
under  the  sturgeon's  nose  and  into  its  round  hole  of  a 
mouth,  expecting  to  fasten  on  to  the  victimized,  harmless 
fish,  and  "yank"  him  clean  and  clear  out  of  his  watery  ele 
ment.  But,  "  lordy,"  wasn't  he  mistaken  and  surprised! 
The  moment  the  hook  touched  the  inside  of  the  sturgeon's 
mouth,  the  creature  backed  water  so  sudden  and  forcibly  as 
to  near  jerk  the  holder  of  the  hook's  head  from  its  socket. 
The  poor  fellow  was  forty  rods  under  water,  and  going 
down  stream,  before  he  mustered  presence  of  mind  enough 
to  induce  him  to  let  go  the  hook  ! 

However,  the  lookers-on  of  this  curious  manoeuvre  took 
a  boat  and  fished  out  their  half-drowned  comrade,  who 
concluded  that  he  had  paid  pretty  dearly  for  his  whistle. 

The  sturgeon-catching  did  not  end  here.  After  the 
laugh  of  the  above-mentioned  adventure  had  ceased,  some 
one  offered  to  bet  a  hat  that  he  could  hold  a  sturgeon  and 

(299) 


300  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

snake  him  clean  out  of  the  water;  and  as  the  man  who  had 
tried  the  experiment  felt  altogether  dubious  about  it,  he  at 
once  bet  that  the  sturgeon  would  be  more  than  a  match  for 
any  man  in  the  crowd. 

The  wager  was  duly  staked,  a  rod  crooked,  the  operator 
tucked  up  his  sleeves  and  trowsers,  and  wades  out  to  where 
a  sturgeon  or  two  were  lying  off  in  the  shallow  water.  Of 
course  the  operation  now  became  a  matter  of  considerable 
interest;  and  as  the  man  was  a  stout,  hearty  fellow,  able  to 
hold  a  bull  by  the  horns,  few  entertained  doubts  of  his 
bringing  out  his  sturgeon. 

After  a  long  time  the  operator  gets  his  hook  under  the 
sturgeon,  and  leans  forward  to  stick  it  close  into  the  jaws 
of  the  victim  ;  and  no  sooner  was  that  part  of  the  feat  ac 
complished,  than  Mr.  Sturgeon  "  backs  out"  with  the  veio- 
city  of  chain  lightning,  carrying  his  assailant  under  water 
and  down  stream  !  The  man  held  on  ;  and  there  they  went, 
foaming  and  pitching,  until  the  fellow,  finding  his  breath 
nearly  out  of  his  body  ;  his  neck,  arms,  and  legs  just  about 
dislocated,  concluded  to  lose  the  hat  and  let  the  hook  and 
sturgeon  go  ! 

Pretty  well  used  up,  the  poor  fellow  succeeded  in  getting 
out  of  the  river,  a  convert  to  the  first  experimental  idea  of 
the  strength  and  velocity  of  fish,  especially  a  big  sturgeon. 

Beginning  to  imagine  that  fish  could  swim,  or  had  some 
muscular  power,  several  of  the  bystanders  were  rife  for  ex 
perimenting  on  the  sturgeons. 

Another  iron  rod  was  converted  into  a  hook,  and  two 
burly-built  Paddys  volunteered  to  hook  the  fish.  An  op 
portunity  was  not  long  waited  for,  ere  a  jolly  good  elastic 
nosed  genus  sturgeon  came  smelling  up  close  to  where  the 
Paddys  had  posted  themselves  upon  some  moss-covered, 
slippery  stones,  and  with  a  sudden  spasmodic  effort,  the 
man  with  the  hook  planted  it  firmly  into  the  suction  hole  of 
the  fish,  while  his  companion  held  on  to  a  rope  fast  to  the 


MIXING    MEANINGS — MANGLING    ENGLISH.        301 

hook.  Before  Pat  could  say  Jack  Robinson,  of  course  he 
was  jerked  off  his  feet,  and,  letting  go  the  iron,  the  other 
Paddy  and  the  sturgeon  set  sail,  having  all  the  fun  to  them 
selves  !  This  proved,  or  very  nearly  so,  a  serious  denoue 
ment  to  the  sturgeon-catching  by  hand,  for  Paddy  was  car 
ried  clean  and  clear  off  soundings,  and  so  repeatedly 
immersed  in  deep  water,  that  his  life  was  within  an  ace  of 
being  wet  out  of  his  body.  The  rope  parted  at  last  (poor 
Pat  never  thought  of  letting  go  his  "hould"),  and  being 
dipped  out  of  the  liquid  element  and  rolled  over  a  barrel 
until  his  insides  were  emptied  of  the  water,  and  heat  re 
stored  through  the  influence  of  whiskey,  he  recovered,  arid 
further  experimenting  on  sturgeons,  that  season,  in  the 
Keimebec,  ceased. 


liking  finings—  Singling  <&tijjlisj}. 

THERE  is  an  individual  in  Quincy  Market,  "doing  busi 
ness,"  who  is  down  on  customers  who  don't  speak  proper. 

"  What's  eggs,  this  morning  ?"  says  a  customer. 

"  Eggs,  of  course,"  says  the  dealer. 

"I  mean — how  do  they  go  ?" 

"Go?— where?" 

"  Sho —  !"  says  the  customer,  getting  up  his  fury,  "  what 
for  eggs  ?" 

11  Money,  money,  sir  !  or  good  endorsed  credit  1"  says  the 
dealer. 

"Don't  you  understand  the  English  language,  sir?"  says 
the  customer. 

"  Not  as  you  mix  it  and  mangle  it,  I  don't  I"  responded 
the  egg  merchant. 

"  What  —  is  —  the  —  price — per  —  dozen  —  for — your — 
eggs  ?" 

"Ah!  now  you  talk,"  says  the  dealer.  "Sixteen  cents 
per  dozen,  is  the  price,  sir  !"  They  traded  ! 


up  ilje  SSlrrmg  |)asstngtr* 


IN  "  comparing  notes"  with  a  travelled  friend,  I  glean 
from  his  stock  of  information,  gathered  South-west,  a 
few  incidents  in  the  life  of  a  somewhat  extensively  famed 
Boston  panoramic  artist  —  one  of  which  incidents,  at  least, 
is  worth  rehearsing.  Some  years  ago,  the  South-west  was 
beset  by  an  organized  coalition  of  desperadoes,  whose  daring 
outrages  kept  travellers  and  the  dwellers  in  the  Mississippi 
valley  in  continual  fear  and  anxiety.  "  Running  niggers" 
was  one  of  the  most  popular  and  profitable  branches  of  the 
business  pursuits  of  these  gentlemen  freebooters,  and,  next 
to  horse-stealing,  was  the  most  practised. 

At  length,  the  citizens  "  measured  swords"  with  the  free 
booters,  or  land  pirates,  more  properly  ;  forming  themselves 
into  committees,  the  citizens  opened  Court  and  practised 
Judge  Lynch's  code  upon  a  multitude  of  just  occasions. 
At  the  time  of  which  we  write,  Mill's  Point,  on  the  Missis 
sippi,  was  no  great  shakes  of  a  town,  but  a  spot  where  a 
very  considerable  amount  of  whiskey  was  drank,  and  a  cor 
responding  quantity  of  crime  and  desperate  doings  were 
enacted  ;  indeed,  some  of  the  worst  scenes  in  Southern 
Kentucky's  tragic  dramas  were  performed  there.  It  so  fell 
out,  that  some  of  the  land  pirates  had  been  actively  engaged 
in  levying  upon  the  negroes  and  mules  around  Mill's  Point, 
and  the  protective  committee  were  on  the  alert  to  capture 
and  administer  the  law  upon  these  fellows.  It  was  dis 
covered,  one  evening,  as  the  shades  of  a  black  and  rather 
tempestuous  night  were  closing  upon  the  mighty  "father 
of  waters"  and  his  ancient  banks,  that  a  mysterious  voya- 
geur,  or  sort  of  piratical  vidette,  was  seen  in  his  light  canoe, 
(302) 


WAKING    UP   THE   WRONG   PASSENGER.  303 

hugging  the  shore,  either  for  shelter  or  some  insidious 
purpose. 

The  canoe  and  its  navigator  were  diligently  watched  ; 
but  the  coming  storm  and  darkness  soon  closed  observation, 
and  the  parties  noticing  the  transaction  hurried  forward  to 
the  Point,  and  announced  one  or  more  of  the  land  pirates 
in  the  neighborhood  !  Of  course,  the  town — of  some  four 
houses,  six  "  groceries,"  a  store  and  blacksmitbery — was 
aroused,  indignant !  Impatient  for  a  victim,  the  posse 
comitatus  "fired  up,"  armed  to  the  teeth  with  pistol, 
bludgeon,  blunderbuss,  gun,  bowie-knife,  and— whiskey, 
started  up  the  river  to  reconnoitre  and  intercept  the  pirate 
and  his  crew. 

Each  nook  and  corner  along  shore,  for  some  three  miles, 
was  carefully — as  much  so  as  the  darkness  would  admit — 
scoured.  The  Storm-King  rode  by,  the  stars  again  twinkled 
in  the  azure-arched  heavens,  and  soon,  too,  the  bright  silver 
moon  beamed  forth,  and  suddenly  one  of  the  vigilant 
committee  espies  the  land-pirate  and  his  canoe  noiselessly 
floating  down  the  rapid  stream  !  No  time  was  to  be  lost ; 
the  committee  man,  rather  pleased  with  the  fact  of  his 
being  the  first  to  make  the  discovery,  apprised  a  comrade, 
and  the  two  hurried  back  to  the  Point,  to  get  a  canoe  and 
start  out  to  capture  the  enemy.  The  canoe  was  obtained,  three 
courageous  men,  armed  to  the  teeth,  as  the  saying  goes, 
paddled  off,  and  indeed  they  had  not  far  to  paddle,  for 
right  ahead  they  saw  the  mysterious  canoe  of  the  enemy ! 
Where  was  the  pirate?  Asleep!  Lying  down  in  his 
frail  vessel ;  either  asleep,  or  "playing  possum."  At  all 
events,  the  Mills-Pointers  gave  the  enemy  but  a  brief  period 
to  sleep  or  act;  for,  dashing  alongside,  a  brawny  arm 
seized  the  victim  in  the  strange  canoe  by  the  breast  and 
throat,  with  such  a  rush  and  fierceness  that  both  canoes 
were  upon  the  apex  of  "swamping." 


304  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Don't  move!  Don't  budge  an  inch,  or  you're  a  case 
for  eels,  you  thief !" 

"Make  catfish  bait  of  him  at  once  !"  yelled  the  second. 

"Don't  move,"  cried  the  third,  "  don't  move,  you  pos 
sum,  or  you're  giblets,  instanter  !" 

But  these  injunctions  scarcely  seemed  necessary,  for,  even 
had  the  captive  been  so  inclined,  he  neither  possessed  the 
power  nor  opportunity  to  move  a  limb. 

"Haul  him  out,"  cried  one. 

"  Yes,  lug  him  into  our  boat,"  said  another;  "so  now, 
you  skunk,  lay  still ;  don't  open  your  trap,  or  I'll  brain  you 
on  sight !" 

Having  transferred  the  body  of  the  captive  from  his 
"  own  canoe"  to  theirs,  the  Mills-Pointers  made  fast  the 
stranger's  dug-out,  and  then  paddled  for  the  landing.  The 
pirate  was  duly  hauled  ashore,  or  on  to  the  wharf-boat, 
and  left  under  guard  of  one  of  the  captors — a  dreadful  ugly- 
looking  customer,  a  cross  between  a  whiskey-cask,  bowie- 
knife,  and  a  Seminole  Indian  or  bull-dog,  and  armed  equal 
to  an  arsenal — while  the  other  two  went  up  to  the  nearest 
"grocery,"  reported  the  capture,  took  a  drink,  and  sent  out 
word  for  Court  to  meet.  The  poor  victim  was  deposited 
on  his  back  Across  some  barrels,  with  his  hands  tied  be 
hind  him.  Recovering  his  scattered  senses,  the  pirate 
"waked  up." 

"Look  here,  my  virtuous  friend,"  said  he  to  his  body 
guard,  who  sat  on  an  opposite  barrel,  with  a  heavy  pistol 
in  his  hand,  "what's  all  this  about  ?" 

"  Shet  up  !"  responded  the  guard  ;  "  shet  up  your  gourd. 
You'll  know  what's  up,  pooty  soon,  you  ugly  cuss,  you  !" 

"  Well,  that's  explicit,  anyhow !"  coolly  continued  the 
captive.  "  But  all  I  want  to  know,  is — am  I  to  be  robbed, 
killed  off,  or  only  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  your 
craft  ?» 


1  Shet  up,  you  piratin'  cuss,  ;you;  siwt  up,  rir  1')!  gi'v^  yo(i  ft'^ettier  l''— Page  305. 


r   ,         • 


'• 


WAKING    UP   THE   WRONG   PASSENGER.  305 

"  Shet  up,  you  piratin'  cuss,  you ;  shet  up,  or  I'll  give 
you  a  settler  !"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  really,  you  are  accommodating,"  cavalierly  re 
plied  the  but  little  daunted  captive.  "  One  thing  consoling 
I  glean,  my  virtuous  friend,  from  your  scraps  of  information 
— you  are  not  a  pirate  yourself,  or  in  favor  of  that  science  ! 
But  I  should  like  to  know,  old  fellow,  where  I  am,  and 
what  the  deuce  I'm  here  for." 

"  Well,  you'll  soon  diskiver  the  perticklers,  for  here  comes 
the  Court,  and  they'll  have  you  dancin'  on  nothin'  and  kickin' 
at  the  wind,  pooty  soon  ;  you  kin  stake  your  pile  on  that !" 

And  with  this,  a  hum  was  heard,  and  soon  a  mob  of  a 
dozen  well-stimulated  citizens,  and  strangers  about  the 
Point,  came  rushing  and  yelling  on  to  the  wharf-boat  and 
were  quite  as  immediately  gathered  around  the  captive. 
The  first  impulse  of  the  posse  comitatus  appeared  to  mani 
fest  itself  in  a  desire  to  hang  the  victim — straight  up  1  A 
second  (how  sober  we  know  not)  thought  induced  them  to 
ask  a  question  or  two,  and  for  this  purpose  the  presiding 
judge  drew  up  before  the  still  prostrate  captive,  and  said — 

"  Who  are  you  ?  What  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself, 
anyhow  ?" 

The  sunburnt,  ragged,  and  rather  romantic-looking  pris 
oner  turned  his  face  towards  the  judge,  and  replied — 

"  I  have  nothing  of  consequence  to  say,  neighbor.  I 
would  like  to  know,  however,  what  all  this  means  !" 

"  Where's  your  crew,  you  villain  ?"  said  the  judge. 

"  Crew  ?  I  have  never  found  it  necessary  to  have  any, 
neighbor ;  navigation  never  engrossed  a  great  deal  of  my 
attention,  but  I  get  along  down  here  very  well — without  a 
crew  1" 

"You  do  ?"  responded  the  judge  ;  "well,  we're  going  to 
hang  you  up." 

"  You  are,  eh  ?"  was  the  cool  reply ;  "  well,  I  have 
19 


300  HUMORS   OF   FALGONBRIDGE. 

always  been  opposed  to  capital  punishment,  neighbor,  and 
I  know  it  would  be  unpleasant  to  me  now !" 

The  quiet  manner  of  his  reply  rather  won  upon  the  Court, 
and  says  the  judge — 

"  Who  are  you,  and  where  are  you  from  ?" 
"My  name  is  Banvard — John  Banvard,  from  Boston  !" 
"  It  is,  eh  ?     What  are  you  doing  along  here,  alone  in  a 
canoe  ?" 

"  Taking  a  panorama  of  the  Mississippi,  neighbor, 
that's  all." 

The  Court  adjourned  sine  die  ;  the  clever  artist  was  un 
tied,  treated  to  the  best  the  market  afforded,  that  night ; 
his  canoe,  rifle,  &c.,  restored  next  day,  and  John  went  on 
his  way  rejoicing  in  his  narrow  escape — finished  his  sketches, 
and  the  first  great  panorama  "  got  up"  in  our  country,  and 
which  he  took  to  Europe,  after  making  a  fortune  by  it  in 
America. 


for 

IT'S  a  highly  prized  faculty  in  shop-keeping  to  sell  some 
thing  when  a  customer  comes  in,  if  you  can.  A  female 
relative  of  ours  went  into  a  Hanover  street  fancy  store 
'tother  day,  to  "look  over"  some  ivory  card  and  needle 
cases  ;  the  slightly  agricultural-looking  clerk  "flew  around," 
and  when  the  question  "  Have  you  any  ivory  card  cases  ?" 
was  propounded,  he  responded — 

"Not  any,  mum  ;"  glancing  into  the  show-case,  his  visual 
orbs  lit  upon  a  profusion  of  well-known  matters  in  domestic 
economy,  for  the  abrogation  of  certain  parasitic  insects. 

"Haven't  any  card  cases,  mum, — (jot  some  elegant  ivory 
small-tooth  combs  /" 


gra  6ot 

NO  slight  portion  of  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  in  a 
city  life,  is  the  culinary  item  of  rent  day.  Washing 
day  has  had  its  day — machines  and  fluid  have  made  wash 
ing  a  matter  of  science  and  ease,  and  we  are  no  longer 
bearded  by  fuming  and  uncouth  women  in  the  sulks  and 
suds,  as  of  yore,  on  the  day  set  apart  for  renovating  soiled 
dimities  and  dickeys.  Another  and  more  important  matter, 
from  the  extent  of  its  obiioxiousness  to  our  nerves  and  tem 
per,  has  come  home  to  our  very  threshold  and  hearths,  to 
disturb  the  even  tenor  of  our  domestic  quietude  and  peace. 
"  Have  you  got  any  ole  boots  ?" 

Boston  lost  a  good  citizen  by  those  bell-pulling,  gate- 
whacking,  back-door-pounding  infernal  collectors  of  time 
and  care-worn  boots.  The  old  boot  gatherers  were  almost 
as  diverting  as  novel  to  me,  when  I  first  located  in  Boston  ; 
but  I  have  long  since  learned  to  hate  and  abhor  them,  and 
their  co-laborers  in  the  tin-pan,  tape,  tea-pot,  willow  work, 
and  white  pine  ware  trade,  with  a  most  religious  enthusiasm. 
"  Have  you  got  any  ole  boots  ?" 

How  often — a  hundred  times  at  least,  have  I  gone  to  the 
door  and  heard  this  inquiry — ten  times  in  one  day,  for  I 
kept  count  of  it,  and  used  enough  "  strong  language"  at 
each  shutting — banging  to  of  the  door,  to  last  a  "first 
officer"  through  a  gale  of  wind. 
"  Have  you  got  any  ole  boots  ?" 

The  idea  of  jumping  up  from  your  beef  steak  and  coffee, 
or  morning  paper — just  as  you  had  got  into  a  deeply  inter 
esting  bit  of  information  on  "  breadstutis,"  California,  or 
the  Queen's  last  baby,  to  open  your  door,  and  espy  a  grim- 

(307) 

.**''•'' 

• 


308  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

visaged  and  begrimed  son  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  just  rear 
ing  his  phiz  above  the  pyramid  of  ancient  and  defiled 
leather,  and  meekly  asking — 

"  Have  yez  got  any  ole  boots  ?" 

These  collectors  are  of  course  prepared  for  any  amount 
of  explosive  gas  you  may  shower  down  upon  their  uncombed 
crowns,  as  the  cool  and  perfectly-at-home  manner  they  de 
scend  your  steps  to  mount  those  of  your  next-door  neigh 
bor  plainly  indicates.  The  "  pedlers"  and — 

"  Have  you  got  any  ole  boots  ?" 

Drove  my  respected — middle-aged  friend  Mansfield — 
clear  out  of  town  !  Mr.  Mansfield  was  a  retired  flour  mer 
chant  ;  he  was  not  rich,  but  well  to  do  in  the  world.  He 
had  no  children  of  his  own,  in  lieu  of  which,  however,  he 
had  become  responsible  for  the  "  bringing  up"  of  two 
orphans  of  a  friend.  One  of  these  children  was  a  boy,  old 
enough  to  be  devilish  and  mightily  inclined  that  way.  The 
boy's  name  was  Philip,  the  foster  father  he  called  Uncle 
Henry,  and  not  long  after  arriving  in  town,  and  opening 
house  at  the  South  End,  Mr.  Mansfield — who  was  given 
to  quiet  musings,  book  and  newspaper  reading — found  that 
he  was  likely  to  become  a  victim  to  the  aforesaid  hawkers, 
pedlers  and  old  boot  collectors. 

Uncle  Henry  stood  it  fora  few  months,  with  the  firmness 
of  an  experienced  philosopher,  laying  the  flattering  unction 
to  his  soul  that,  however  harrowing — 

"  Got  any  ole  boots  to-day  ?" 

might  be  to  him,  for  the  present,  he  could  grin  and  bear 
and  finally  get  used  to  it,  as  other  people  did.  But  Uncle 
Henry  possessed  an  irritable  and  excitable  temperament, 
that  not  one  man  in  ten  thousand  could  boast  of,  and  hence 
he  grew — at  length  sour,  then  savage,  and,  finally,  quite 
meat-axish,  towards  every  outsider  who  dared  to  ring  his 
bell,  and  proffer  wooden  ware  and  tin  fixins,  for  rags  and 
rubbers,  or  make  the  never-to-be-forgotten  inquiry — 


HAVE   YOU    GOT   ANY    OLD    BOOTS?  309 

"  Have  you  got  any  ole  boots  to-day  ?" 

Always  at  home,  seated  in  his  front  parlor,  and  his  frugal 
wife  not  permitting  the  expense  of  a  servant,  Uncle  Henry, 
or  Master  Philip,  were  obliged  to  wait  on  the  door.  The 
old  gentleman  finally  concluded  that  the  pedlers  and  old  boot 
collectors,  more  as  a  matter  of  daily  amusement  than  profit 
or  concern — gave  him  a  call.  And  laboring  under  this  im 
pression,  Uncle  Henry  determined  to  give  the  nuisances,  as 
he  called  them,  a  reception  commensurate  with  their  imper 
tinence  and  his  worked  up  ire. 

"  Now,  Philly,"  said  Uncle  Henry,  one  morning  after 
breakfast,  "  we'll  fix  these — 

"'Got  any  ole  boots  P 

"We'll  give  the  rascals  a  caution  they  won't  neglect 
soon,  I'll  warrant  them.  Bring  me  the  hammer  and  nails  ; 
that's  a  man  ;  now  get  uncle  the  high  chair;  so,  that's  it; 
now  I'll  fix  this  shelf  up  over  the  top  of  the  door,  on  a 
pivot — bore  this  hole  through  here — put  the  string  through 
that  way,  here,  umph  ;  oh,  now  we'll  have  a  trap  for  the 
scoundrels.  I'll  learn  them  how  to  come  pulling  people's 
bells,  clean  out  by  the  very  roots,  making  us  drop  all,  to 
come  wait  on  them,  rot  them — 

"  '  Got  any  ole  boots  ?' 

"I'll  give  you  old  boots,  by  the  lord  Harry;  I'll  give 
you  a  dose  of  something  you  won't  forget,  to  your  dying 
day." 

And  thus  jabbering,  fixing  and  pushing  about  the  re 
volving  shelf,  over  his  hall  door,  Mr.  Mansfield  worked 
away  at  his  trap.  Like  that  of  most  dwellings  in  Boston, 
Uncle  Henry's  front  door  was  sunk  some  six  or  eight  feet 
into  the  face  of  the  house,  reached  by  a  flight  of  six  granite 
steps — side  and  top  lights  to  the  door,  in  the  ordinary  way, 
with  brass  plate  and  bell  pull.  It  was  in  a  neighborhood 
not  plebeian  enough  to  induce  butcher  boys  to  enter  the 
hall,  with  the  pork  and  potatoes,  nor  admit  of  the  servant 


310  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

girl  heaving  "  slops"  out  of  the  front  windows ;  yet  not 
sufficiently  parvenu  to  impress  pedlers  and 

"  Got  any  ole  boots  ?» 

with  aristocratic  or  "respectable"  awe,  ere  venturing  to 
mount  the  steps,  pull  the  bell,  and  mention  tin  pots,  scrap 
iron,  rags  and  old  leather.  Mr.  Mansfield  was  inclined  to 
chuckle  in  his  sleeves  at  the  ruse  he  would  be  enabled  to 
give  his  tormentors  through  the  agency  of  his  revolving 
battery — charged  with  ground  charcoal  and  brick  dust,  to 
be  worked  by  himself  or  Philly,  by  means  of  a  string  on  the 
inside.  Philly  was  duly  initiated  into  the  modus  operandi; 
when — 

"  Got  any  ole  boots?" 

made  his  appearance,  amid  his  pyramid  of  leather,  or  a 
pedler's  wagon  was  seen  in  the  neighborhood,  Philly  was 
to  be  on  the  qui  vive,  inform  Uncle  Henry,  and  if  they 
mounted  the  steps,  he  would  give  them  a  shower  bath  upon 
a  new  and  astonishing  principle. 

It  was  perfect  "  nuts"  for  Master  Phil ;  he  was  tickled 
at  the  idea,  and  readily  agreed  to  Uncle  Henry's  proposi 
tions.  Not  long  after  arranging  the  "  infernal  machine," 
Uncle  Henry's  attention  was  called  to  another  part  of  the 
house ;  a  dire  calamity  had  befallen  the  Canary  bird  ;  a 
strange  cat  had  pounced  upon  the  cage — the  door  flew 
open,  and  puss  nabbed  the  little  warbler.  Philly,  on  the 
look  out,  in  front,  discovers  two  old  boot  men  approaching 
the  neighborhood  ;  desirous  of  showing  his  own  skill,  he  did 
not  call  Uncle  Henry,  but  posted  himself  behind  the  door — 
string  in  hand,  awaiting  the  cue.  Feet  approach — quickly 
the  feet  mount  the  steps. 

"  Ding  al  ling,  ding  de  ding,  ding,  ding,  ding!" 

"  Sh-i-i-s-swashe  J"  and  down  comes  the  avalanche  of 
coal  dust  and  refined  brick,  the  bulk  of  a  peck,  fair  mea 
surement  ! 

Uncle  Henry  reached  the  door  just  in  time  to  see  the 


HAVE   YOU    GOT   ANY   OLD    BOOTS?  311 

penny  postman  covered  from  head  to  foot  with  the  ob 
noxious  composition  !  Philly  took  occasion  to  make  a 
sudden  exit,  the  postman  swore — swore  like  a  trooper,  but 
Uncle  Henry  managed  to  pack  the  whole  transaction  upon 
the  "  devilish  boy". — brushed  the  postman's  clothes,  and 
after  some  effort,  so  mollified  him  as  to  induce  the  sufferer 
to  depart  in  peace.  Uncle  Henry  tried  to  be  very  severe 
on  Philly,  but  it  was  very  evident  to  that  hopeful  that  the 
old  gentleman  was  more  tickled  than  serious.  Philly 
cleared  the  steps,  and  the  old  gentleman  re-arranged  the 
trap,  admonishing  Philly  not  to  dare  to  meddle  with  it 
again,  but  call  him  when — 

"  Got  any  ole  boots?"  made  their  appearance. 

All  was  quiet  up  to  noon  next  day ;  Uncle  Henry  had 
business  down  town,  and  left  the  house  at  9  A.  M.  Philly 
was  at  school,  but  got  home  before  Uncle  Henry,  and 
seeing  the  pedler  wagon  near  the  door — slipped  in,  and 
learning  that  the  old  gentleman  was  out,  he  gladly  took 
charge  of  the  battery  again.  Now,  just  as  the  pedler 
mounted  the  steps  of  the  next  door,  Mr.  Mansfield  sees 
him,  and  hurries  up  his  own  steps,  to  be  on  the  watch  for 
the  pedler.  Philly  had  been  peaking  out  the  corner  of  the 
side  curtain,  and  seeing  the  pedler  coming,  as  he  thought, 
right  up  the  steps — nabbed  the  string,  and  as  Uncle  Henry 
caught  the  knob  of  the  door — down  came  thundering  the 
brick  dust  and  charcoal  both,  in  the  most  elegant  pro 
fusion. 

Phil  was  tricked.  Uncle  Henry's  vociferations  were  equal 
to  that  of  a  drunken  beggar — the  trap  was  removed,  Uncle 
Henry  got  disgusted  with  city  life,  and  left — for  rural  re 
tirement,  without  as  much  as  giving  one  single  rebuke  to — 

"  Got  any  ole  boots  to-day  ?" 


aaries  of 


NATURE  seems  to  have  her  fitful,  frightful,  and  funny 
moods,  as  well  as  all  her  children.  Now  she  gets  up 
a  stone  bridge,  the  gigantic  proportions  and  the  symmetrical 
development  of  which  attract  great  attention  from  all 
tourists  and  historians  who  venture  into  or  speak  of  "old 
Virginia."  The  old  dame  goes  down  far  into  the  bowels 
of  Mother  Earth,  in  Kentucky,  and  builds  herself,  silently 
and  alone,  a  stupendous  under-ground  palace,  that  laughs 
to  scorn  the  puny  efforts  of  man  in  that  branch  of  business. 
She  gets  up  sugar-loaf  mountains,  pillars  of  salt,  great 
granite  breastworks,  and  stone  towers  ;  hews  out  figure 
heads,  old  men's  noses  on  the  beetling  cliffs  of  New  Hamp 
shire,  and  throws  up  rocky  palisades  along  the  Hudson, 
that  win  wonder  and  delight  from  the  floating  million. 
Instances  out  of  all  number  might  be  raked  up,  home  and 
abroad,  to  show  how  the  old  dame  has  cut  didoes  in  the 
prosecution  of  her  manifold  duties.  But  in  Australia,  it 
would  seem,  nature  has  taken  most  especial  pains  to  appear 
slightly  ridiculous  or  very  eccentric. 

Old  Captain  Rocksalt  informs  us  —  and  there  is  always 
wit,  wisdom,  and  truth  in  the  old  man's  stories  —  that  he 
made  voyages  to  Australia  many  times  within  the  past 
thirty  years,  and  having  visited  about  all  the  sea-ports  of 
the  Continent,  lived  and  almost  died  in  Australia,  his  notes 
are  worthy  of  attention.  Capt.  Cook  discovered  and  named 
Botany  Bay,  the  name  originating  from  the  fact  that  the 
land  was  covered  with  a  luxurious  growth  of  Botanical 
specimens.  The  Dutch  discovered  and  named  Van  Die- 
men's  Land.  The  English  at  once  concluded  to  make 
(312) 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  NATURE.          313 

Botany  Bay  a  penal  colony,  and  the  first  living  freight  of 
criminals  and  soldiers  sent  out,  was  some  TOO  in  number, 
in  1TSS;  but  Capt.  Phillip,  the  commander  of  the  fleet, 
being  dissatisfied  with  the  looks  of  Botany  Bay,  hunted  up 
a  better  place,  and  sailed  to  it.  When  Capt.  Cook  was 
cruising  off  there,  one  of  his  sailors,  on  the  look  out,  cried, 
"Land  ho!" 

Cook  was  over  his  wine  and  beef,  in  the  cabin,  and  it 
took  him  some  time  to  "  tumble  up"  on  deck. 

"Where  the  deuce  is  your  land,  eh?"  bawls  the  old 
cruiser. 

"Larboard  beam,  sir!"  responds  the  "lookout;"  and, 
sure  enough,  a  long,  faint  streak  of  land  was  visible  from 
deck.  The  "lookout"  announced  a  harbor,  head-lands,  &c.  ; 
but  the  rum  old  captain,  not  being  able  to  see  any  such 
indication,  with  a  chuckle,  says  he — 

"  You  booby  !  harbor,  eh  ?  Ha,  ha  I  well,  we'll  call  it  a 
port,  you  powder  monkey — Port  Jackson  /" 

And  faith,  so  the  lookout,  Jackson,  became  sponser 
to  the  finest  harbor  in  all  Australia;  for  Capt.  Phillip, 
upon  rediscovering  the  harbor,  took  his  fleet  into  it,  and 
then  and  there  began  the  now  flourishing  city  of  Sydney. 

Australia  is  an  Island,  lying  opposite  another — New- 
Zealand.  It  is  on  the  Indian  Ocean,  south  side,  while  the 
east  opens  to  the  Pacific.  Australia  claims  to  contain  a 
superficial  area  of  over  three  million  square  miles,  part 
desert,  rather  mountainous,  and  all  being  in  one  of  the 
finest  climates  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  air  is  dry,  the 
soil  light  and  sandy  ;  the  high  winds  stir  up  the  dust  and 
fine  sand,  and  make  ophthalmy  the  only  positive  ill  peculiar 
to  the  country.  Sheep-grazing,  wool-growing,  and  boiling 
down  sheep  and  cattle  for  tallow  was  the  great  business  of 
the  country  from  its  earliest  settlement  up  to  1851,  when 
the  gold  fever  swept  the  land. 

Australia  was  inhabited  by  over  100,000  natives,  black 


314  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

cannibals  of  the  ugliest  description  ;  but  at  this  day  not  a 
hundred  of  them  remain.  The  natives  were  exceeding 
stupid  and  useless  ;  the  first  settlers,  who,  as  Capt.  Rock- 
salt  observes,  were  jail-birds  and  scape-gallows,  were  not 
very  dainty  in  dealing  with  the  obnoxious  natives ;  so  they 
determined  to  get  rid  of  them  as  fast  and  easy  as  possible. 
For  this  purpose,  they  used  to  gather  a  horde  of  them 
together,  and  give  them  poisoned  bread  and  rum,  and  so 
kill  them  off  by  hundreds.  It  was  a  sharp  sort  of  practice, 
but  the  ends  seemed  to  justify  the  means. 

Gold,  "laying  around  loose,"  as  it  did,  was,  no  doubt, 
discovered  years  ago ;  but  not  in  quantities  to  lead  the 
ignorant  to  believe  money  could  be  made  hunting  it. 
People  may  be  stupid  ;  but  it  requires  a  far  greener  capa 
city  than  most  of  them  would  confess  to — at  least,  ten  years 
ago — to  make  them  believe  gold  could  be  picked  up  in 
chunks  out  in  the  open  fields. 

But  Australia  began  to  be  populated;  by  convicts  first ; 
and  then  by  far  better  people  ;  though  the  very  worst  felons 
sent  out  often  became  decent  and  respectable  men,  which  is 
indeed  a  great  "puff,"  we  think,  for  the  healthfulness  of 
the  climate.  A  convict  shepherd  now  and  then  used  to 
bring  into  Sydney  small  lumps  of  gold  and  sell  them  to  the 
watch-makers,  and  as  he  refused  to  say  where  or  how  he  got 
them,  it  was  suspicioned  that  he  had  secreted  guineas  or 
jewelry  somewhere,  and  occasionally  melted  them  for  sale, 

However,  one  day  the  thing  broke  out,  nearly  simulta 
neously,  all  over  Australia.  Gold  was  lying  around  every 
where.  The  rocks,  ledges,  bars,  gullies,  and  river-banks, 
which  were  daily  familiar  to  the  eyes  of  thousands,  all  of  a 
sudden  turned  up  bright  and  shining  gold.  Old  Dame 
Nature  must  have  laughed  in  her  sleeve  to  see  the  fun 
and  uproar — the  scrabble  and  rush  she  had  caused  in  her 
vast  household. 

"  It  did  beat  all!"  exclaims  the  old  Captain.     "  In  forty- 


THE  VAGARIES  OP  NATURE.          315 

eight  hours  Sydney  was  half-depopulated,  Port  Phillip 
nearly  desolate,  while  the  interior  villages  or  towns — 
Bathurst,  &c.,  were  run  clean  out  I" 

Stores  were  shut  up,  the  clerks  running  to  the  mines, 
and  the  proprietors  after  the  clerks.  Mechanics  dropped 
work  and  put  out ;  servants  left  without  winking,  leaving 
people  to  wait  on  themselves ;  doctors  left  what  few 
patients  they  had,  and  bolted  for  the  fields  of  Ophir ;  law 
yers  packed  up  and  cut  stick,  following  their  clients  and  vic 
tims  to  the  brighter  fields  of  ' '  causes"  and  effects.  The  news 
papers  became  so  short-handed  that  dailies  were  knocked 
into  weeklies,  and  the  weeklies  into  cocked  hats,  or  some 
thing  near  it — mere  eight-by-ten  "  handbills." 

These  "  discoveries"  wrought  as  sudden  as  singular  a 
revolution  in  men,  manners,  and  things.  As  we  said  before, 
Australia  was  the  very  apex  of  singularities  in  the  way  of 
Dame  Nature's  fancy-work,  long  before  the  gold  mania 
broke  out;  but  now  she  seemed  bent  on  a  general  and 
miscellaneous  freak,  making  the  staid,  matter-of-fact  Eng 
lishmen  as  full  of  caprice  as  the  land  they  were  living  in. 

"Only  look  at  it!"  exclaims  the  Captain:  "the  day 
comes  in  the  middle  of  our  nights  !  When  we're  turning 
in  at  home,  they  are  turning  out  in  Australia.  Summer 
begins  in  the  middle  of  winter ;  and  for  snow  storms  they 
get  rain,  thunder  and  lightning.  About  the  time  we  are 
getting  used  to  our  woollens  and  hot  fires  of  the  holidays, 
they  are  roasting  with  heat,  and  going  around  in  linen 
jackets  and  wilted  dickeys.  The  land  is  full  of  flowers  of 
every  hue,  gay  and  beautiful,  gorgeous  and  sublime  to  look 
at,  but  as  senseless  to  the  smell  and  as  inodorous  as  so 
many  dried  chips.  The  swans  are  numerous,  but  jet  black. 
The  few  animals  in  the  country  are  all  provided  with 
pockets  in  their  'overcoats,'  or  skin,  in  which  to  stow  their 
young  ones,  or  provender.  Some  of  the  rivers  really 
appear,"  says  the  Captain,  "  to  run  up  stream !  I  was 


316  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

• 

completely  taken  down,"  says  the  Captain,  "by  a  bunch  of 
the  finest  pears  you  ever  saw.  Myself  and  a  friend  were  up 
the  country,  and  I  sees  a  fine  pear  tree,  breaking  down 
with  as  elegant-looking  fruit  as  I  ever  saw. 

"  '"Well,  by  ginger,'  says  I,  '  them  are  about  as  fine  pears 
as  I've  seen  these  twenty  years  !' 

"'Yes/  says  my  friend,  who  was  a  resident  ill  the 
country  ;  '  perhaps  you  would  like  to  try  a  few  ?' 

"  '  That  I  shall,'  says  I ;  so  I  ups  and  knocks  down  a 
few,  and  it  was  a  job  to  get  them  down,  I  tell  you  j  and 
when  I  had  one  between  my  teeth  I  gave  it  a  nip — see 
there,  two  teeth  broke  off,"  says  the  Captain,  showing  us 
the  fact ;  "  the  fine  pears  were  mere  wood! 

"  The  country  is  well  supplied  with  fine  birds  ;  but  they 
are  dumb  as  beetles,  sir — never  heard  a  bird  sing  or  whistle 
a  note  in  Australia.  The  trees  make  no  shade,  the  leaves 
hang  from  the  stems  edge  up,  and  look  just  as  if  they  had 
been  whipped  into  shreds  by  a  gale  of  wind  j  and  you  rarely 
see  a  tree  with  a  bit  of  bark  on  it. 

"  But  what  completely  upset  me,  was  the  cherries,  sir — 
fine  cherries,  plenty  of  them,  but  the  stones  were  all  on  the 
outside  I  The  bees  have  no  stings,  the  snakes  no  fangs, 
and  the  eagles  are  all  white.  The  north  wind  is  hot,  the 
south  wind  cold.  Our  longest  days  are  in  summer ;  but  in 
Australia,  sir,  the  shortest  days  come  in  summer,  and  the 
longest  in  winter;  and,"  says  the  Captain,  "I  can't  begin 
to  tell  you  how  many  curious  didoes  nature  seems  to  cut, 
in  that  country  ;  but,  altogether,  it's  one  of  the  queerest 
countries  I  ever  did  see,  by  ginger!" 

And  we  have  come  to  the  conclusion — it  is.  If  the  gold 
continues  to  "turn  up"  in  such  boulders  and  "nuggets" 
as  recently  reported,  Australia  is  bound  to  be  the  richest 
and  most  densely  populated,  as  well  as  queerest  country 
known  to  man. 


dtneral  JiswsitioR  011  "p»gts* 


DID  you  ever  see  a  real,  true,  unadulterated  specimen 
of  Down  East,  enter  a  store,  or  other  place  of  every 
day  business,  for  the  purpose  of  "looking  around,"  or 
dicker  a  little?  They  are  "coons,"  they  are,  upon  all 
such  occasions.  We  noted  one  of  these  "critters"  in  the 
store  of  a  friend  of  ours,  on  Blackstone  Street,  recently. 
He  was  a  full  bloom  Yankee  —  it  stuck  out  all  over  him. 
He  sauntered  into  the  store,  as  unconcerned,  quietly,  and 
familiarly,  as  though  in  no  great  hurry  about  anything  in 
particular,  and  killing  time,  for  his  own  amusement.  Absa 
lom,  Abijah,  Ananias,  Jedediah,  or  Jeremiah,  or  whatever 
else  his  name  may  have  been,  wore  a  very  large  fur  cap, 
upon  a  very  small  and  close-cut  head  ;  his  features  were 
mightily  pinched  up  ;  there  was  a  cunning  expression  about 
the  corner  of  his  eyes,  not  unlike  the  embodiment  of  — 
"catch  a  weazel  asleep  !"  while  the  smallness  of  his  mouth, 
thinness  and  blue  cast  of  his  chin  and  lips,  bespoke  a  keen, 
calculating,  pinch  a  four-pence  until  it  squeaked  like  a 
frightened  locomotive  temperament  !  His  "  boughten"  sack 
coat,  fitting  him  all  over,  similar  to  a  wet  shirt  on  a  broom- 
handle,  was  pouched  out  at  the  pockets  with  any  quantity 
of  numerous  articles,  in  the  way  of  books  and  boots,  pam 
phlets  and  perfumery,  knick-knacks  and  gim-cracks,  calico, 
candy,  &c.  His  vest  was  short,  but  that  deficiency  was 
made  up  in  superfluity  of  dickey,  and  a  profusion  of  sorrel 
whiskers.  Having  got  into  the  store,  he  very  leisurely 
walked  around,  viewing  the  hardware,  separately  and 
minutely,  until  one  of  the  clerks  edged  up  to  him  : 
"What  can  we  do  for  you  to-day,  sir  ?" 

(sit) 


318  HUMORS    OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Looking  quarteringly  at  the  clerk  for  about  two  fall 
minutes,  says  he — 

"I'd  duuno,  just  yet,  mister,  what  yeou  kin  do." 

"  Those  are  nice  hinges,  real  wrought,"  says  the  clerk,  re 
ferring  to  an  article  the  "customer"  had  just  been  gazing  at 
with  evident  interest. 

"Rale  wrought?"  he  asked,  after  another  lapse  of  two 
minutes. 

"  They  are,  yes,  sir,"  answered  the  clerk.  Then  followed 
another  pause  ;  the  Yankee  with  both  his  hands  sunk  deep 
into  his  trowsers'  pockets,  and  viewing  the  hinges  at  a  re 
spectful  distance,  in  profound  calculation,  three  minutes 
full. 

"  They  be,  eh  ?"  he  at  length  responded. 

"  Yes,  sir,  warranted,"  replied  the  clerk.  Another  long 
pause.  The  Yankee  approached  the  hinges,  two  steps — 
picks  up  a  bundle  of  the  article,  looks  knowingly  at  them 
two  minutes — 

"  Yeou  don't  say  so  ?" 

"No  doubt  about  that,  at  all,"  the  clerk  replies,  rather 
pertly,  as  he  moves  off  to  wait  upon  another  customer,  who 
bought  some  eight  or  ten  dollars'  worth  of  cutlery  and 
tools,  paid  for  them,  and  cleared  out,  while  our  Yankee 
genius  was  still  reconnoitering  the  hinges. 

"  I  say,  mister,  where's  them  made  ?"  inquires  the  Yankee. 

"In  England,  sir,"  replied  the  clerk. 

"Not  in  Neuw  England,  I'll  bet  a  fo'pence  !" 

"  No,  not  here — in  Europe." 

"I  knowed  they  warn't  made  areound  here,  by  a  darn'd 
sight !" 

"We've  plenty  of  American  hinges,  if  you  wish  them," 
said  the  clerk. 

"  I've  seen  hinges  made  in  aour  place,  better'n  them." 

"  Perhaps  you  have.  We  have  finer  hinges,"  answered 
the  clerk. 


A   GENERAL   DISQUISITION   ON    "HINGES."         319 

"  I  'spect  you  have ;  I  don't  call  them  anything  great,  no 
how  !» 

"Well,  here's  a  better  article  ;  better  hinges — " 

11  Well,  them's  pooty  nice,"  said  the  Yankee,  interrupting 
the  clerk,  "but  they're  small  hinges." 

"  We  have  alt  sizes  of  them,  sir,  from  half  an  inch  to  four 
inches." 

"  You  hev  ?"  inquiringly  observed  the  Yankee,  as  the 
clerk  again  left  him  and  the  hinges,  to  wait  on  another  cus 
tomer,  who  bought  a  keg  of  nails,  &c.,  and  left. 

"I  see  you've  got  brass  hinges,  tew!"  again  continued 
the  Yankee,  after  musing  to  himself  for  twenty  minutes,  full. 

"  0,  yes,  plenty  of  them,"  obligingly  answered  the  clerk. 

"  How's  them  brass  'uns    work  ?" 

"Very  well,  I  guess;  used  for  lighter  purposes,"  said  the 
clerk. 

"  Put  'em  on  desks,  and  cubber-doors,  and  so  on  ?' 

"  Yes ;  they  are  used  in  a  hundred  ways." 

"Hinges,"  says  the  Yankee,  after  a  pause,  "ain't  con 
sidered,  I  guess,  a  very  neuw  invenshun  ?" 

"  I  should  think  not,"  half  smilingly  replied  the  clerk. 

"D'yeou  ever  see  wooden  hinges,  mister  ?" 

"  Never,"  candidly  responded  the  clerk. 

"  Well,  I  hev,"  resolutely  echoed  the  Yankee. 

"You  have,  eh?" 

"E'  yes,  plenty  on  'em — eout  in  Illinoi ;  seen  fellers  eout 
there  that  never  seen  an  iron  hinge  or  a  razor  in  their 
lives !" 

"I  wasn't  aware  our  western  friends  were  so  far  behind 
the  times  as  that,"  said  the  clerk. 

"It's  &  fad — dreadful,  tew,  to  be  eout  in  a  place  like 
that,"  continued  the  Yankee.  "I  kept  school  eout  there, 
nigh  on  to  a  year  ;  couldn't  stand  it — " 

"  Ah,  indeed  !"  mechanically  echoed  the  poor  clerk. 

"No,  sir;   dreadful  place,  some  parts  of  Illinoi;   folks 


320  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

air  almighty  green  ;  couldn't  tell  how  old  they  air,  nuff  on 
'em ;  when  they  get  mighty  old  and  bald-headed,  they  stop 
arid  die  off,  of  their  own  accord." 

''Illinois  must  be  a  healthy  place  ?"  observed  the  clerk. 

"  Healthy  place  !  I  guess  not,  mister ;  fever  and  ague 
sweetens  'em,  I  tell  you.  0,  it's  dreadful,  fever  and 
ague  is  !" 

"  That  caused  you  to  leave,  I  suppose  ?"  said  the  clerk. 

"  Well,  e'  yes,  partly ;  the  climate,  morals,  and  the  water, 
kind  o'  went. agin  me.  The  big  boys  had  a  way  o'  fightin', 
cursin',  and  swearin',  pitchin'  apple  cores  and  corn  at  the 
master,  that  didn't  exactly  suit  me.  Finally,  one  day,  at 
last,  the  boys  got  so  confeounded  sassy,  and  I  got  the  fever 
and  agy  so  bad,  that  they  shook  daown  the  school-house 
chimney,  and  I  shook  my  hair  nearly  all  eout  by  the  roots, 
with  the  agy — so  I  packed  up  and  slid!" 

The  clerk  being  again  called  away  to  wait  on  a  fresh 
customer,  the  Yankee  was  left  to  his  meditations  and  survey. 
Having  some  twenty  more  rninutes'to  walk  around  the  store, 
and  examine  the  stock,  he  brought  up  opposite  the  clerk, 
who  was  busy  tying  up  gimlets,  screws,  and  stuff,  for  a 
carpenter's  apprentice.  Yankee  explodes  again. 

"  Got  a  big  steore  of  goods  layin'  areound  here,  haven't 
yeou  ?" 

"  We  have,  sir,  a  fair  assortment,"  said  the  clerk. 

"  Them  Illinoi  folks  haven't  no  idee  what  a  place  this 
Boston  is  ;  they  haven't.  I  tried  to  larn  'em  a  few  things 
towards  civilization,  but  'twareri't  no  sort  o'  use  tryin' !" 

"  New  country  yet ;  the  Illinois  folks  will  brighten  up 
after  a  while,  I  guess,"  said  the  clerk.  "  Did  you  wish  to 
examine  any  other  sort  of  hinges,  sir  ?"  he  continued. 

"  Hain't  I  seen  all  yeou  hev  ?" 

"  0,  no  ;  here  we  have  another  variety  of  hinges,  steel, 
copper,  plated,  &c.  These  are  fine  for  parlor  doors,  &e.," 
said  the  clerk. 


MISERIES   OF   BACHELORHOOD.  321 

"E'  yes  them  air  nice,  I  swow,  mister;  look  like  rale 
silver.  I  'spect  them  cost  somethin'  ?" 

"  They  come  rather  high,"  said  the  clerk,  "  but  we've  got 
them  as  low  as  you  can  buy  them  in  the  market." 

"I  want  to  know  !"  quietly  echoes  the  Yankee. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  what  do  you  wish  to  use  them  for  ?"  says  the 
clerk. 

"  Use  'em  ?"  responded  the  Yankee. 

"  Yes  ;  what  priced  hinges  did  you  require  ?" 

"  What  priced  hinges  ?— " 

"  Exactly  !  Tell  me  what  you  require  them  for,  and  I 
can  soon  come  at  the  sort  of  hinges  you  require,"  said  the 
clerk,  making  an  effort  to  come  to  a  climax. 

"Who  said  /wanted  any  hinges  ?" 

"Who  said  you  wanted  any?  Why,  don't  you  want  to 
buy  hinges  ?" 

"  Buy  hinges  ?  Why,  no  ;  I  don't  want  nothin' ;  I  only 
came  in  to  look  areoundJ" 

Having  looked  around,  the  imperturbable  Yankee  stepped 
out,  leaving  the  poor  clerk — quite  flabbergasted  ! 


jof 

DABSTER  says  he  would  not  mind  living  as  a  bachelor, 
but  when  he  comes  to  think  that  bachelors  must  die — that 
they  have  got  to  go  down  to  the  grave  "without  any  body  to 
cry  for  them"— it  gives  him  a  chill  that  frost-bites  his  phi 
losophy.  Dabster  was  seen  on  Tuesday  evening,  going 
convoy  to  a  milliner.  Putting  this  fact  to  the  other,  and 
we  think  we  "smell  something,"  as  the  fellow  said  when 
his  shirt  took  fire. 
20 


ot  Strait*  of 

JEREMY  DIDDLERS  have  existed  from  time  imme 
morial  down,  as  traces  of  them  are  found  in  all  ancient 
and  modern  history,  from  the  Bible  to  Shakspeare,  from 
Shakspeare  to  the  revelations  of  George  Gordon  Byron, 
who  strutted  his  brief  hour,  acted  his  part,  and — vanished. 
Diddler  is  derived  from  the  word  diddle,  to  do — every  body 
who  has  not  yet  made  his  debut  to  the  Elephant.  We  be 
lieve  the  word  has  escaped  the  attention  of  the  ancient 
lexicographers,  and  even  Worcester,  and  the  still  more  du 
rable  "  Webster,"  have  no  note  of  the  word,  its  derivation, 
or  present  sense. 

A  "  Jeremy  Diddler"  is,  in  fact,  one  of  your  first-class 
vagabonds  ;  a  fellow  who  has  been  spoiled  by  indulgent 
parents,  while  they  were  in  easy  circumstances.  Trained 
up  to  despise  labor,  not  capacitated  by  nature  or  inclination 
to  pass  current  in  a  profession,  he  finds  himself  at  twenty 
possessed  of  a  genteel  address,  a  respectable  wardrobe,  a 
few  friends,  and — no  visible  means  of  support.  There  are 
but  two  ways  about  it — take  to  the  highway,  or  become  a 
Diddler — a  sponge — and,  like  woodcock,  live  on  "suction." 
The  early  part  of  a  Diddler's  life  is  chiefly  spent  among  the 
ladies  ; — they  being  strongly  susceptible  of  flattering  atten 
tions,  especially  those  of  "a  nice  young  man,"  your  Diddler 
lives  and  flourishes  among  them  like  a  fighting  cock.  Did 
dler's  "  heyday"  being  over,  he  next  becomes  a  politician — 
an  old  Hunker;  attends  caucusses  and  conventions,  din 
ners  and  inaugurations.  Never  aspiring  to  matrimony 
among  the  ladies,  he  remains  an  "  old  bach  ;"  never  hoping 
for  office  under  government,  he  never  gets  any  ;  and  when, 
at  last,  both  youth  and  energies  are  wasted,  Diddler  dons  a 
(322) 


THE    SCIENCE    OF    "DIDDLING."  323 

white  neckcloth,  combs  his  few  straggling  hairs  behind  his 
ears,  and,  dressed  in  a  well-brushed  but  shocking;  seed)7  suit 
of  sable,  he  jincs  church  and  turns  "  old  fogie,"  carries 
around  the  plate,  does  chores  for  the  parson,  becomes  gene 
rally  useful  to  the  whole  congregation,  and  finally  shuffles 
off  his  mortal  coil,  and  ends  his  eventful  and  useless  life  in 
the  most  becoming  manner. 

Cities  are  the  only  fields  subservient  to  the  successful 
practice  of  a  respectable  Diddler.  New  York  affords  them 
a  very  fair  scope  for  operation,  but  of  all  the  American 
cities,  New  Orleans  is  the  Diddler's  paradise  !  The  mobile 
state  of  society,  the  fluctuations  of  men  and  business,  the 
impossibility  of  knowing  any  thing  or  any  body  there  for 
any  considerable  period,  gives  the  Diddler  ample  scope  for 
the  exercise  of  his  peculiar  abilities  to  great  effect.  He 
dines  almost  sumptuously  at  the  daily  lunches  set  at  the 
splendid  drinking  saloons  and  cafes,  he  lives  for  a  month  at 
a  time  on  the  various  upward-bound  steamboats.  In  New 
Orleans,  the  departure  of  a  steamer  for  St.  Louis,  Cincin 
nati  or  Pittsburg,  is  announced  for  such  an  hour  "  to-day" 
• — positively;  Diddler  knows  it's  "all  a  gag"  to  get  pas 
sengers  and  baggage  hurried  on,  and  the  steamer  keeps 
going  for  two  to  five  (Jays  before  she's  gone  ;  so  he  comes 
on  board,  registers  one  of  his  commonplace  aliases,  gets 
his  state-room  and  board  among  the  crowd  of  real  passen 
gers,  up  to  the  hour  of  the  boat's  shoving  out,  then  he — 
slips  ashore,  and  points  his  boots  to  another  boat.  Many's 
the  Diddler  who's  passed  a  whole  season  thus,  dead-head 
ing  it  on  the  steamers  of  the  Crescent  City.  Sometimes 
the  Diddler  learns  bad  habits  in  the  South,  from  being  a 
mere  Diddler,  which  is  morally  bad  enough  ;  he  comes  in 
contact  with  professional  gamblers,  plunges  into  the  most 
pernicious  and  abominable  of  vices — gambles,  cheats,  swin 
dles,  and  finally,  as  a  grand  tableau  to  his  utter  damnation 
here  and  hereafter,  opens  a  store  or  a  bank  with  a  crow 
bar — or  commits  murder. 


"Behold,  for  peace  I  had  great  bitterness,  but  thou  hast  in  lovo  to  my 
soul  delivered  it  from  the  pit  of  corruption  :  for  thou  hast  cast  all  my  sins 
behind  thy  back." — ISAIAH. 

A  PORTLY  elderly  gentleman,  with  one  hand  in  his 
breeches  pocket,  and  the  fingers  of  the  other  drum 
ming  a  disconsolate  rub-a-dub  upon  the  window  glass  of  an 
elegant  mansion  near  Boston  Common,  is  the  personage 
I  wish  to  call  your  attention  to,  friend  reader,  for  the  space 
of  a  few  moments.  The  facts  of  my  story  are  common 
place,  and  thereby  the  more  probable.  The  names  of  the 
dramatis  persons  I  shall  introduce,  will  be  the  only  part  of 
my  subject  imaginary.  Therefore,  the  above-described  old 
gentleman,  whom  we  found  and  left  drumming  his  rub-a-dub 
upon  the  window  panes,  we  shall  call  Mr.  Joel  Newschool. 
To  elucidate  the  matter  more  clearly,  I  would  beg  leave  to 
say,  that  Mr.  Joel  Newschool,  though  now  a  wealthy  and 
retired  merchant,  with  all  the  "  pomp  and  circumstance"  of 
fortune  around  him,  could — if  he  chose. — well  recollect  the 
day  when  his  little  feet  were  shoeless,  red  and  frost-bitten, 
as  he  plodded  through  the  wheat  and  rye  stubble  of  a  Mas 
sachusetts  farmer,  for  whom  he  acted  in  early  life  the  trifling 
character  of  a  "cow  boy." 

Yes,  Joel  could  remember  this  if  he  chose ;  but  to  the 
Tain  heart  of  a  proud  millionaire,  such  reflections  seldom 
come  to  the  surface.  Like  hundreds  of  other  instances  in 
the  history  of  our  countrymen,  by  a  prolonged  life  of  en 
terprise  and  good  luck,  Joel  Newschool  found  himself,  at 
the  age  of  four-and-sixty,  a  very  wealthy,  if  not  a  happy 
man.  With  his  growing  wealth,  grew  up  around  him  a 
(324) 


THE    RE-UNION  ;    THANKSGIVING    STORY.          325 

large  family.  Having  served  an  apprenticeship  to  farming, 
he  allowed  but  a  brief  space  to  elapse  between  his  freedom 
suit  and  portion,  and  his  wedding-day.  Joel  and  his  young 
and  fresh  country  spouse,  with  light  hearts  and  lighter 
purses,  came  to  Boston,  settled,  and  thus  we  find  them  old 
and  wealthy.  In  the  heart  and  manners  of  Mrs.  Newschool, 
fortune  made  but  slight  alteration  ;  but  the  accumulation 
of  dollars  and  exalted  privileges  that  follow  wealth,  had 
wrought  many  changes  in  the  heart  and  feelings  of  her 
husband. 

The  wear  of  time,  which  is  supposed  to  dim  the  eye, 
seemed  to  improve  the  ocular  views  of  Joel  Newschool 
amazingly,  for  he  had  been  enabled  in  his  late  years  to  see 
that  a  vast  difference  of  caste  existed  between  those  that 
tilled  the  soil,  wielded  the  sledge  hammer,  or  drove  the 
jack-plane,  and  those  that  were  merely  the  idle  spectators 
of  such  operations.  He  no  longer  groped  in  the  darkness 
of  men  who  believed  in  such  fallacies  as  that  wealth  gave 
man  no  superiority  over  honest  poverty  !  In  short,  Mr. 
Newschool  had  kept  pace  with  all  the  fine  notions  and  os 
tentatious  feelings  so  peculiar  to  the  mushroom  aristocracy 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  He  gloried  in  his  pride,  and  yet 
felt  little  or  none  of  that  happiness  that  the  bare-footed, 
merry  cow  boy  enjoyed  in  the  stubble  field.  But  such  is 
man. 

With  all  his  comfortable  appurtenances  wealth  could  buy 
and  station  claim,  the  retired  merchant  was  not  a  happy 
man.  Though  his  expensive  carriage  and  liveried  driver 
were  seen  to  roll  him  regularly  to  the  majestic  church  upon 
the  Sabbath  :  though  he  was  a  patient  listener  to  the  mas 
sive  organ's  spiritual  strains  and  the  surpliced  minister's 
devout  incantations :  though  he  defrauded  no  man,  defamed 
not  his  neighbor,  was  seeming  virtuous  and  happy,  there 
was  at  his  heart  a  pang  that  turned  to  lees  the  essence  of 
his  life. 


326  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Joel  Newschool  had  seen  his  two  sons  and  three  daught 
ers,  men  and  women  around  him  ;  they  all  married  and  left 
his  roof  for  their  own.  One,  a  favorite  child,  a  daughter, 
a  fine,  well-grown  girl,  upon  whom  the  father's  heart  had 
set  its  fondest  seal — she  it  was  that  the  hand  of  Providence 
ordained  to  humble  the  proud  heart  of  the  sordid  million 
aire.  Cecelia  Newschool,  actuated  by  the  noblest  impulses 
of  nature,  had  for  her  husband  sought  "  a  man,  not  a  mo 
ney  chest,"  and  this  circumstance  had  made  Cecelia  a  sev 
ered  member  of  the  Newschool  family,  who  could  not,  in 
the  refined  delicacy  of  their  senses,  tolerate  such  palpable 
condescension  as  to  acknowledge  a  tie  that  bound  them  to 
the  wife  of  a  poor  artizan,  whatever  might  be  his  talents  or 
integrity  as  a  man. 

Francis  Fairway  had  made  honorable  appeal  to  the  heart 
of  Cecelia,  and  she  repaid  his  pains  with  the  full  gift  of  a 
happy  wife.  She  counted  not  his  worldly  prospects,  but 
yielded  all  to  his  constancy.  She  wished  for  nothing  but 
his  love,  and  with  that  blessed  beacon  of  life  before  her, 
she  looked  but  with  joy  and  hope  to  the  bright  side  of  the 
sunny  future. 

The  home  of  the  artizan  was  a  plain,  but  a  happy  one. 
Loving  and  beloved,  Cecelia  scarce  felt  the  loss  of  her  sump 
tuous  home  and  ties  of  kindred.  But  not  so  the  proud 
father  and  the  patient  mother,  the  haughty  sisters  and  bro 
thers  ;  they  felt  all  ;  they  attempted  to  conceal  all,  that  bit 
terness  of  soul,  the  canker  that  gnaws  upon  the  heart  when 
we  will  strive  to  stifle  the  better  parts  of  our  natures. 

Time  passed  on  ;  one,  two,  or  three  years,  are  quickly 
passed  and  gone.  Though  this  little  space  of  time  made 
little  or  no  change  in  the  families  of  the  proud  and  indolent 
relatives,  it  brought  many  changes  in  the  eventful  life  of 
the  young  artizan  and  his  wife.  T\ro  sweet  little  babes 
nestled  in  the  mother's  arms,  and  a  new  and  splendid  invc-n- 


THE  RE-UNION;  THANKSGIVING  STORY.       327 

tion  of  the  poor  mechanic  was  reaping  the  wonder  and 
admiration  of  all  Europe  and  America. 

This  was  salt  cast  upon  the  affected  wounds  of  the 
haughty  relatives.  Now  ashamed  of  their  petty,  poor, 
contemptible  arrogance,  they  could  not  in  their  hearts  find 
space  to  welcome  or  partake  of  the  proud  dignity  with 
which  honorable  industry  had  crowned  the  labors  of  the 
young  mechanic. 

It  was  a  cold  day  in  November ;  the  wind  was  twirling 
and  whistling  through  the  trees  on  the  Common  ;  the  dead 
leaves  were  dropping  seared  and  yellow  to  the  earth,  ad 
monishing  the  old  gentleman  whom  we  left  drumming  upon 
the  window,  that —  t 

"  Such  was  life  !" 

The  old  gentleman  thumped  and  thumped  the  window 
pane  with  a  dreary  sotto  voce  accompaniment  for  some  min 
utes,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  an  aged,  pious-looking 
matron,  who  dropped  her  spectacles  across  the  book  in  her 
lap,  as  she  sat  in  her  chair  by  the  fireside,  and  said — 

"Joel." 

"  Umph  ?"  responded  the  old  gentleman. 

"  The  Lord  has  spared  us  to  see  another  Thanksgiving 
day,  should  we  live  to  see  to-morrow." 

"  He  has,"  responded  Mr.  Newschool. 

"  I've  been  thinking,  Joel,  that  how  ungrateful  to  God 
we  are,  for  the  blessings,  and  prosperity,  and  long  life 
vouchsafed  to  us,  by  a  good  and  benevolent  Almighty." 

"  Rebecca,"  said  the  faltering  voice  of  the  rich  man,  "  I 
know,  I  feel  all  this  as  sensitive  as  you  can  possibly  feel  it." 

"  I  was  thinking,  Joel,"  continued  the  good  woman,  "to 
morrow  we  shall,  God  permitting,  be  with  our  children  and 
friends  once  again,  together." 

11 1  hope  so,  I  trust  we  shall,"  answered  the  husband. 

"  And  I  was  thinking,  Joel,"  resumed  the  wife,  "  that  the 
exclusion  of  our  own  child,  Cecelia,  from  the  family  re- 


328  HUMORS    OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

unions,  from  joining  us  in  returning  thanks  to  God  for  his 
mercy  and  preservation  of  us,  is  cruel  arid  offensive  to  Him 
we  deign  to  render  up  our  prayers." 

"Rebecca,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "I  but  agree  with 
you  in  this,  you  have  but  anticipated  my  feelings  in  the  mat 
ter.  I  have  long  fought  against  my  better  feelings  and 
offended  a  discriminating  God,  I  know.  Ashamed  to  con 
fess  my  stubbornness  and  frailty  before,  I  now  freely  confess 
an  altered  feeling  and  better  determination." 

"Then,  Joel,  let  our  daughter  Cecelia  and  her  husband 
join  with  us  to-morrow  in  rendering  our  thanks  to  a  just 
God  and  kind  Providence." 

"  Be  it  so,  Rebecca.  God  truly  knows  it  will  be  a  mill 
stone  relieved  from  my  heart.  I  wish  it  done." 

Three  family  re-unions,  three  days  of  Thanksgiving  had 
been  held  in  the  paternal  mansion  of  the  Xewsehools,  since 
Cecelia  had  left  it  for  the  humble  home  of  the  poor  artizan. 
But  their  several  re-unions  were  clouded,  gloomy,  unsocial 
affairs ;  there  was  a  gap  in  the  social  circle  of  the  New- 
school  family,  as  they  met  on  Thanksgiving  day,  which  all 
felt,  but  none  hinted  at.  It  was  hard  for  a  parent  to  invoke 
blessings  on  a  portion,  but  not  all,  of  his  own  flesh  and 
blood  ;  it  was  hard  to  return  thanks  for  those  dear  ones  pre 
sent,  and  wonder  whether  the  absent  and  equally  dear  had 
aught  to  be  thankful  for,  whether  instead  of  health  and 
comfort,  they  might  not  be  sorrowing  in  disease,  poverty, 
and  despair  !  Such  things  as  these,  when  they  obtrude 
upon  the  mind,  the  soul,  are  not  likely  to  make  merry  meet 
ings.  And  such  was  the  position  and  nature  of  the  re-union 
upon  the  late  Thanksgiving  days,  at  the  Xewschool  man 
sion.  But  better  feelings  were  at  work,  and  a  happy  change 
was  at  hand. 

Several  carriages  had  already  drove  up  to  the  door  of 
Mr.  Xewschool,  Sen.,  and  let  down  the  different  branches 
of  the  Newschool  family.  A  brighter  appearance  seemed 


THE    RE-UNION  ;    THANKSGIVING    STORY.  329 

gathering  over  the  household  than  was  usual  of  late  on 
Thanksgiving  day,  in  the  old  family  mansion.  As  each  party 
came,  the  good  old  mother  duly  informed  them  of  the  invi 
tation  given,  and  the  hope  indulged  in,  that  Cecelia  and 
her  husband  would  join  the  family  circle  that  day,  in  their 
re-union. 

The  proud  sisters  seemed  willing,  at  last,  to  cast  away 
their  pride,  and  greet  their  sister  as  became  Christian  and 
sensible  women.  The  brothers,  chagrined  at  the  unmanli- 
ness  of  their  conduct,  now  gladly  joined  their  approval  of 
what  betokened,  in  fact,  a  happy  family  meeting.  As  the 
clock  on  old  South  Church  tower  pealed  out  eleven,  o, 
pretty,  smiling  young  mother,  in  plain,  but  unexceptionable, 
neat  attire,  ascended  the  large  stone  steps  of  the  Newschool 
mansion,  with  a  light  and  graceful  step,  bearing  a  sleeping 
child  in  her  arms. 

Another  moment,  and  Cecelia  Fairway  was  in  the  arms 
of  her  old  mother  ;  the  smiles,  kisses  and  tears  of  the  whole 
family  party  were  bountifully  showered  upon  poor  Cecelia, 
and  her  sweet  little  daughter.  Imagination  may  always 
better  paint  such  a  scene,  than  could  the  feeble  pen  describe 
it.  The  deep  and  gushing  eloquence  of  human  nature, 
when  thus  long  pent,  bursts  forth,  sweeping  the  meagre  de 
vises  of  the  pen  before  it,  like  snow-flakes  before  the  mighty 
mountain  avalanche. 

Oh  !  it  was  a  happy  sight,  to  see  that  party  at  their 
Thanksgiving  dinner. 

Old  Mr.  Newschool,  in  his  long  and  fervent  prayer  to 
the  throne  of  grace,  expressed  the  day  the  happiest  one  of 
his  long  life.  Quickly  flew  the  hours  by,  and  as  the  shades 
of  evening  gathered  around,  Francis  Fairway  was  announced 
with  a  carriage  for  his  wife's  return  home.  Francis  Fair 
way,  the  artizan,  was  a  proud,  high-minded  man,  conscious 
of  his  own  position  and  merits,  and  scorned  any  base 
means  to  conciliate  the  favor  and  patronage  of  his  supe- 


330  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBR1DGE. 

riors  in  rank,  birth,  or  education.  His  deportment  to  the 
Newschool  family  was  frank  and  manly ;  and  they  met  it 
with  a  sense  of  just  appreciation  and  dignity,  that  did 
them  honor.  Francis  met  a  generous  welcome,  and  the 
evening  of  Thanksgiving  day  was  spent  in  a  happy  re-union 
indeed.  Upon  Cecelia's  and  her  husband's  return  home, 
she  found  a  small  note  thrust  in  the  bosom  of  her  child, 
bearing  this  inscription — 

"  Grandfather's  Re-union  gift  to  little  Cecelia;  Boston,  Nov.,  184.-." 

The  note  contained  five  $1000  bills  on  the  old  Granite 
Bank  of  Boston,  and  which  were  duly  placed  in  the  old 
Bank  fire-proof,  to  the  account  of  the  little  heir,  the  enter 
prise  of  the  artizan  having  placed  him  above  the  necessity 
of  otherwise  disposing  of  Joel  Newschool's  gift  to  the 
grandchild. 


bs.  gltn. 

THEODORE  PARKER  says,  the  cultivation  of  man  is  as 
noble  and  praiseworthy  a  science,  as  the  cultivation  of  cab 
bage,  or  the  garden  sass  !  Says  brother  Theodore,  "You 
don't  cast  garden-seed  in  the  mire,  over  the  rough  broken 
ground,  and  exhibit  your  benefits.  No,  you  dig,  level,  rake, 
and  then  sow  your  seed,  you  give  them  sunshine  and  water, 
you  tear  out  the  weeds  that  would  choke  your  infant  ve^e- 
tables — why  would  you  do  less  for  the  material  man  ?" 
Prc-cisely !  we  pause  for  an  answer,  proposals  received 
from  the  learned — until  we  go  to  press. 


-^  feitg  HJait  from  tjje  Country 


Co 

ALL  of  our  mercantile  cities  are  overrun  with  young 
men  who  have  been  bred  for  the  counter  or  desk,  and 
thousands  of  these  genteel  young  gents  find  it  any  thing 
but  an  easy  matter  to  find  bread  or  situations  half  their 
time,  in  these  crowded  marts  of  men  and  merchandise.  An 
advertisement  in  a  New  York  or  New  Orleans  paper,  for  a 
clerk  or  salesman,  rarely  fails  to  "  turn  up"  a  hundred 
needy  and  greedy  applicants,  in  the  course  of  a  morning  I 
In  New  York,  where  a  vast  number  of  these  misguided 
young  men  are  "  manufactured,"  and  continue  to  be  manu 
factured  by  the  regiment,  for  an  already  surfeited  market, 
there  are  wretches  who  practise  upon  these  innocent  vic 
tims  of  perverted  usefulness,  a  species  of  fraud  but  slightly 
understood. 

By  a  confederacy  with  some  experienced  dry  goods 
dealer,  the  proprietor  of  one  of  those  agencies  for  procuring 
situations  for  young  men,  victims  of  misplaced  confidence 
are  put  through  at  five  to  ten  dollars  each,  somewhat  after 
this  fashion  :  Sharp,  the  keeper  of  the  Agency,  advertises 
for  two  good  clerks,  one  book-keeper,  five  salesmen,  ten 
waiters,  &c.,  &c. ;  and,  of  course,  as  every  steamboat,  car 
and  stage,  running  into  New  York,  brings  in  a  fresh  im 
portation  of  young  men  from  the  country,  all  fitted  out  in 
the  knowledge  box  for  salesmen,  book-keepers  and  clerk 
ships, — every  morning,  a  new  set  are  offered  to  be  taken 
in  and  done  for.  Sharp  demands  a  fee  of  five  or  ten  dollars 
for  obtaining  a  situation;  victim  forks  over  the  amount, 
and  is  sent  to  Sharp  number  two,  who  keeps  the  dry  goods 
shop ;  he  has  got  through  with  a  victim  of  yesterday,  and 

(331) 


HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

is  now  ready  for  the  fresh  victim  of  to-day ;  for  he  makes 
it  a  point  to  put  them  through  such  a  gamut  of  labor,  vexa 
tious  manoeuvres  and  insolence,  that  not  one  out  of  fifty 
come  back  next  day,  and  if  they  do— he  don't  want  them! 
If  the  unsuspecting  victim  returns  to  the  "Agency,"  he  is 

lectured  roundly  for  his  incapacity  or  want  of  energy  ! 

and  advised  to  return  to  the  country  and  recuperate. 

Jeremiah  Bumps  having  graduated  with  all  the  honors  of 
Sniffeiisville  Academy,  and  having  many  unmistakable 
longings  for  becoming  a  Merchant  Prince,  and  seeing  sights 
in  a  city  ;  and  having  read  an  account  of  the  great  fortunes 
piled  up  in  course  of  a  few  years,  by  poor,  friendless  country 
boys,  like  Abbot  Lawrence,  John  Jacob  Astor,  he  up  and 
came  right  straight  to  Boston,  having  read  it  in  the  papers 
that  clerks,  salesmen,  book-keepers,  and  so  on,  were  wanted, 
dreadfully — "  young  men  from  the  country  preferred" — so 
he  called  on  the  suffering  agent  for  the  public,  and  paying 

down  his/ee,  was  sent  off  to  an  Importing  House,  on  . 

street,  where  a  clerk  and  salesman  were  wanted.  Jeremiah 
found  his  idea  of  an  Importing  House  knocked  into  a  dis 
arranged  chapeau,  by  finding  the  one  in  the  "present  case," 
a  large  and  luminous  store,  filled  up  with  paper  boxes  and 
sham  bundles ;  while  gaudily  festooned,  were  any  quantity 
of  calicoes,  cheap  shawls,  ribbons,  tapes,  and  innumerable 
other  tuppenny  affairs. 

Nebuchadnezzar  Cheatum,  the  proprietor  of  this  import 
ing  and  jobbing  house,  was  a  keen,  little,  slick-as-a-whistle, 
heavy-bearded,  shaved  and  starched  genus,  of  six-and-thirty, 
more  or  less  ;  and  received  Jeremiah  with  a  rather  patron 
izing  survey  pcrsonelle,  and  opened  the  engagement  with  a 
few  remarks. 

"  From  the  country,  are  you  ?" 

"  Sniffeiisville,  sir,"  said  Jeremiah  ;  "  County  of  Scrub- 
oak,  State  of  New  Hampshire." 

"Ah,  well,  I  prefer  country-bred  young  men;  they  are 


WANTED  :   A  YOUNG  MAN  FROM   THE   COUNTRY.    333 

better  trained,"  said  Cheatum,  "to  industry,  perseverance, 
honest  frugality,  and  the  duties  of  a  Christian  man.  I  was 
brought  up  in  the  country  myself.  I've  made  myself; 
carved  out,  and  built  up  my  own  position,  sir.  Yes,  sir, 
give  me  good,  sound,  country-bred  young  men ;  I've  tried 
them,  I  know  what  they  are,"  said  Cheatum ;  and  he  spoke 
near  enough  the  truth  to  be  partly  true,  for  he  had  "tried 
them  ;"  he  averaged  some  fifty-two  clerks  and  an  equal 
number  of  salesmen — yearly. 

Jeremiah  Bumps  grew  red  in  the  face  at  the  compli 
mentary  mariner  in  which  Nebuchadnezzar  Cheatum  was 
pleased  to  review. the  country  and  its  institutions. 

"  What  salary  did  you  think  of  allowing  ?"  says  Jeremiah. 

"Well,"  said  Cheatum,  "I  allow  my  salesmen  three 
dollars  a  week  the  first  year,  (Jeremiah's  ears  cocked  up,) 
and  three  per  cent,  on  the  sales  they  make  the  second  year." 

By  cyphering  it  up  "in  his  head,"  Jeremiah  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  first  year  wouldn't  add  much  to  his 
pecuniary  elevation,  whatever  the  second  did  with  its  three 
per  cents.  But  he  was  bound  to  try  it  on,  anyhow 

"Now,"  said  Cheatum,  "in  the  first  place,  Solomon " 

"Jeremiah,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  young  man. 

"Ah,  yes,  Thomas — pshaw! — Jediah,  I  would  say,"  con 
tinued  Cheatum,  correcting  himself — 

"  Jeremiah — Jeremiah  Bumps,  sir,"  sharply  echoed  Mr. 
Bumps. 

"Oh,  yes,  yes;  one  has  so  many  clerks  and  salesmen  in 
course  of  business,"  said  Cheatum,  "that  I  get  their  names 
confused.  Well,  Jeremiah,  in  the  first  place,  you  must 
learn  to  please  the  customers ;  you  must  always  be  lively 
and  spry,  and  never  give  an  offensive  answer.  Many  women 
and  girls  come  in  to  price  and  overhaul  things,  without  the 
remotest  idea  of  buying  anything,  and  it's  often  trying  to 
one's  patience  ;  but  you  must  wait  on  them,  for  there  is  no 
possible  means  of  telling  a  woman  who  shops  for  pastime, 


334  HUMORS    OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 

from  one  who  shops  in  earnest ;  so  you  must  be  careful,  be 
polite,  be  lively  and  spry,  and  never  let  a  person  go  without 
making  a  purchase,  if  you  can  possibly  help  it.  If  a  person 
asks  for  an  article  we  have  not  got,  endeavor  to  make  them 
try  something  else.  If  a  woman  asks  whether  four-penny 
calico,  or  six-penny  delaines  will  wash,  say  'yes,  ma'am, 
beautifully;  I've  tried  them,  or  seen  them  tried;'  and  if 
they  say,  'are  these  ten  cent  flannels  real  Shaker  flannels  ? 
or  the  ninepence  hose  all  merino  T  better  not  contradict 
them;  say 'yes,  ma'am,  I've  tried  them,  seen  them  tried, 
know  they  are,'  or  similar  appropriate  answers  to  the 
various  questions  that  may  be  asked,"  said  Cheatum. 
"Yes,  sir,"  Jeremiah  responded,  "I  understand." 

"And,  William " 

"Jeremiah,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"Oh,  yes;  well,  Jediah— Jeremiah,  I  would  say— when 
you  make  change,  never  take  a  ten  cent  piece  and  two  cents 
for  a  shilling,  but  give  it  as  often  as  practicable ;  look  out 
for  the  fractions  in  adding  up,  and  beware  of  crossed  six 
pences,  smooth  shillings,  and  what  are  called  Bungtown 
coppers,"  said  Cheatum,  with  much  emphasis. 

"  I'm  pooty  well  posted  up,  sir,  in  all  that,"  said  Jeremiah. 
"Arid,  Jeems — pshaw  ! — Jacob — Jeremiah  !  I  would  say, 
in  measuring,  always  put  your  thumb  so,  and  when  you 
move  the  yardstick  forward,  shove  your  thumb  an  inch  or 
so  back ;  in  measuring  close  you  may  manage  to  squeeze 
out  five  yards  from  four  and  three-quarters,  you  understand  ? 
And  always  be  watchful  that  some  of  those  nimble,  light- 
fingered  folks  don't  slip  a  roll  of  ribbon,  or  a  pair  of  gloves 
or  hose,  or  a  piece  of  goods,  up  their  sleeves,  in  their 
bosoms,  pockets,  or  under  their  shawls.  Be  careful,  Henry 
— Jeems,  I  should  say,"  said  Cheatum. 

Being  duly  rehearsed,  Jeremiah  Bumps  went  to  work. 
The  first  customer  he  had  was  a  little  girl,  who  bought  a 
yard  of  ribbon  for  ninepence,  and  Jeremiah  not  only 


WANTED  :    A   YOUNG  MAN  FROM   THE   COUNTRY.    385 

stretched  seven-eighths  of  a  yard  into  a  full  yard,  but  made 
twelve  cents  go  for  a  ninepence,  which  feat  brought  down 
the  vials  of  wrath  of  the  child's  mother,  a  burly  old  Scotch 
woman,  who  "tongue-lashed"  poor  Jeremiah  awfully!  His 
next  adventure  was  the  sale  of  a  dress  pattern  of  sixpenny 
de-laine,  which  he  warranted  to  contain  all  the  perfections 
known  to  the  best  article,  and  in  dashing  his  vigorous  scis 
sors  through  the  fabric,  he  caught  them  in  the  folds  of  a 
dozen  silk  handkerchiefs  on  the  counter,  and  ripped  them 
all  into  slitters  !  The  young  woman  who  took  the  dress 
pattern,  upon  reaching  home,  found  it  contained  but  eight 
yards,  when  she  paid  for  nine.  She  came  back,  and  Jere 
miah  Bumps  got  another  bombasting  !  He  sold  fourpenny 
calico,  and  warranted  it  to  wash ;  next  day  it  came  back, 
and  an  old  lady  with  it ;  the  colors  and  starch  were  all  out, 
by  dipping  it  in  water,  and  the  woman  went  on  so  that  Cheat- 
urn  was  glad  to  refund  her  money  to  get  rid  of  her.  Two 
dashing  young  ladies,  out  "  shopping"  for  their  own 
diversions,  gave  Jeremiah  a  call  ;  he  labored  hand  and 
tongue,  he  hauled  down  and  exhibited  Cheatum's  entire 
stock  ;  the  girls  then  were  leaving,  saying  they  would  "call 
again,"  and  Jeremiah  very  amiably  said,  "do,  ladies,  do ; 
call  again,  like  to  secure  your  custom!''1  The  young  ladies 
took  this  as  an  insult.  Their  big  brothers  waited  on  Mr. 
Bumps,  and  nothing  short  of  his  humble  apologies  saved 
him  from  enraged  cowhides  !  Jeremiah  saw  a  suspicious 
woman  enter  the  store,  and  after  overhauling  a  box  of 
gloves,  he  thought  he  saw  her  pocket  a  pair.  He  inter 
cepted  the  lady  as  she  was  going  out — he  grabbed  her  by 
the  pocket — the  lady  resisted — Jeremiah  held  on — the  lady 
fainted,  and  Jeremiah  Bumps  nearly  tore  her  dress  off  in 
pulling  out  the  gloves !  The  lady  proved  to  be  the  wife  of 
a  distinguished  citizen,  and  the  gloves  purchased  at  another 
store  !  A  lawsuit  followed,  and  Mr.  Bumps  was  fined  $100, 
and  sent  to  the  House  of  Correction  for  sixty  days. 


336  HUMORS    OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 

How  many  new  clerks  Nebuchadnezzar  Cbeatum  has  put 
through  since,  we  know  not ;  but  Jeremiah  Bumps  is  now 
engaged  in  the  practical  science  of  agriculture,  and  shud 
ders  at  the  idea  of  a  young  man  from  the  country  being 
wanted  in  a  dry  goods  shop,  if  they  have  got  to  see  the 
elephant  that  he  observed — in  Boston. 


fjrestna  of 

MR.  DAVENPORT — the  "  Ned  Davenport"  of  the  Bowery 
boys — before  sailing  for  Europe  and  while  attached  to  the 
Bowery  Theatre,  was  of  the  lean  and  hungry  kind.  In  fact 
he  was  extremely  lean — tall  as  a  may- pole,  and  slender 
enough  to  crawl  through  a  greased  fleute,  —  to  use  a 
yankeeism. 

Somebody  "up"  for  Shylock  one  night,  at  the  Bowery, 
was  suddenly  "  indisposed"  or,  in  the  strongest  probability, 
quite  stupefied  from  the  effect  of  the  deadly  poisons  re 
tailed  in  the  numerous  groggeries  that  teally  swarm  near  the 
Gotham  play-houses.  Well,  Mr.  Davenport — a  gentleman 
who  has  reached  a  most  honorable  position  in  his  profession 
by  sobriety  and  talent — was  substituted  for  the  indisposed 
Shylock,  and  the  play  went  on. 

In  the  trial  scene,  Mr.  Davenport  really  "  took  down  the 
house"  by  his  vehemence,  and  his  ferocious,  lean,  and 
hungry  aspsrations  for  the  pound  of  flesh !  One  of  the 
b'hoys,  so  identical  with  the  B'ow'ry  pit,  got  quite  worked 
up  ;  he  twisted  and  squirmed,  he  chewed  his  cud,  he  stroked 
his  "  soap-lock,"  but,  finally,  wrought  up  to  great  presence 
of  mind, — our  lean  Shylock  still  calling  for  his  pound  of 
flesh, — roars  out ; — 

"  S'ay,  look  a'  here, — why  don't  you  give  skinny  de  meat, 
don't  you  see  he  wants  it,  sa-a-a-y!" 

AVc  very  naturally  infer  that  "  the  piece"  ice.nl  off  with  a 
rush  I 


NO  better  specimen  of  the  genus,  genuine  Yankee  na 
tion,  can  be  found,  imagined  or  described,  than  the 
skippers  of  along  shore,  from  Connecticut  river  to  Eastport, 
Maine.  These  critters  give  full  scope  to  the  Hills  and 
Hacketts  of  the  stage,  and  the  Sam  Slicks  and  Falcon- 
bridges  of  the  press,  to  embody  and  sketch  out  in  the 
broadest  possible  dialect  of  Yankee  land.  One  of  these 
"tarnal  critters,"  it  is  my  purpose  to  draw  on  for  my  brief 
sketch,  and  I  wish  my  readers  to  do  me  the  credit  to  believe 
that  for  little  or  no  portion  of  my  yarn  or  language  am  I 
indebted  to  fertility  of  imagination,  as  the  incidents  are 
real,  and  quite  graphic  enough  to  give  piquancy  to  the 
subject. 

Last  spring,  just  after  the  breaking  up  of  winter,  a  down- 
east  smack  or  schooner,  freighted  with  cod-fish  and  pota 
toes,  I  believe,  rounded  off  Cape  Ann  light,  and  owing  to 
head  winds,  or  some  other  perversity  of  a  nautical  nature, 
could  no  further  go ;  so  the  skipper  and  his  crew — one 
man,  green  as  catnip — made  for  an  anchorage,  and  hore 
the  "  hull  consarn"  to.  Here  they  lay,  and  tossed  and 
chafed,  at  their  moorings,  for  a  day  or  two,  without  the 
slightest  indication  on  the  part  of  the  weather  to  abate  the 
nuisance.  So  the  commander  of  the  schooner  got  in  his 
little  "dug-out,"  and  giving  the  aforesaid  crew  special  in 
junctions  to  keep  all  fast,  he  pulled  off  to  shore  to  take 
a  look  around. 

Now,  it  so  fell  out  that  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours'  time 
after  the  departure  of  the  skipper,  a  snorting  east  wind 
sprang  up,  and  not  only  blew  great  guns,  but  chopped  up 
21  (33?) 


338  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGK. 

a  short,  heavy  sea,  perfectly  astonishing  and  alarming  to 
Hezekiah  Perkins,  in  the  rolling  and  pitching  schooner.  It 
was  Hez's  first  attempt  at  seafaring ;  and  this  sort  of  reel 
ing  and  waltzing  about,  as  a  matter  of  course,  soon  discora- 
boberated  his  bean  basket,  and  set  his  head  in  a  whirl  and 
dancing  motion — better  conceived  by  those  who  have  seen 
the  sea  elephant  than  described.  Hez  got  dea-a-athly  sick, 
so  sick  he  could  not  budge  from  the  stern  sheets,  where  he 
had  taken  a  squat  in  the  early  commencement  of  his  diffi 
culties.  In  the  mean  time,  the  skipper  came  down  to  the 
beach  and  hailed  the  victim  : 

"Hel-Lo!  hel-Lo!" 

Hez  feebly  elevated  his  optics,  and  looking  to  the  wind 
ward,  where  stood  his  noble  captain,  he  made  an  effort  to 
say  over  something  : 

"  Wha-a-t  ye-e-e  want  ?" 

"What  do  I  want?  Why,  yeou  pesky  critter,  yeou,  go 
for'ard  thar  and  hist  the  jib,  take  up  the  anchor,  put  your 
helm  a-lee,  and  beat  up  to  town  !" 

This  was  all  very  well,  provided  the  skipper  was  there 
to  superintend,  manage  and  carry  out  his  voluble  orders  ; 
but  as  the  surf  prevented  him  from  coming  on  board,  and 
the  lightness  of  Hez's  head  militated  against  the  almost 
superhuman  possibility  of  carrying  out  the  skipper's  orders, 
things  remained  in  statu  quo,  the  skipper  ashore,  and  Hez 
fervently  wishing  he  was  too. 

"Ain't  you  a-going  to  stir  round  there,  and  save  the  ves 
sel  ?"  bawled  the  excited  captain. 

"  How  on  airth,"  groaned  the  horror-stricken  mariner, 
41  how  on  airth  am  I  to  help  it  ?" 

"  Wall,  by  Columbus,  she'll  go  clean  ashore,  or  blow 
eout  to  sea  afore  long,  sure  as  death  !"  responded  the  skip 
per;  and  before  he  had  fairly  concluded  his  augury,  sure 
enough,  the  halser  parted,  the  schooner  slew  round  and 
made  a  bee-line  for  Cowes  and  a  market !  This  rather 


THE  SKIPPER'S  SCHOONER.  339 

brought  Hezekiah  to  his  oats — he  riz,  tottering  and  feeble, 
on  his  shaky  pins,  and  crawled  forward  to  get  up  the  jib. 

"0  ye-s,  now  yeou're  coming  about  it,  yes,  yeou  be," 
bawled  the  almost  frantic  skipper,  as  the  distance  between 
him  and  his  vessel  was  increasing.  "  Put  her  abeout  and 
head  her  up  the  ba-a-y  !"  But  it  was  no  kind  of  use  in 
talking,  for  Hezekiah  could  not  raise  the  jib  ;  and  his  im 
perfect  nautical  knowledge,  under  such  a  snarl,  completely 
bewildered  and  disgusted  him  with  the  prospect.  So  say 
ing  over  the  seven  commandments  and  other  serious  lessons 
of  youth,  Hezekiah  resigned  himself  to  the  tumultuous  ele 
ments,  and  concluded  it  philosophical  and  scriptural  resig 
nation  to  let  Providence  and  the  old  schooner  fix  out  the 
programme  just  as  they  might.  It  is  commonly  reported, 
that  our  mackerel  catchers,  when  a  storm  or  gale  overtakes 
them  on  the  briny  deep,  lash  all  fast  and  go  below,  turn  in 
and  let  their  smacks  rip  along  to  the  best  of  their  know 
ledge  and  ability.  They  seldom  founder  or  get  severely 
scathed  ;  and  these  facts,  or  perfect  indifference,  having  en 
tered  the  head  of  Hezekiah  Perkins,  he  became  perfectly 
unconcerned  as  to  future  developments.  Night  coming  on, 
the  skipper  saw  his  schooner  fast  departing  out  to  sea,  and 
when  she  was  no  longer  to  be  seen,  he  made  tracks  for  Bos 
ton,  to  report  the  melancholy  facts  to  the  owners  of  the 
vessel  and  cargo,  and  see  about  the  insurance. 

Next  morning,  the  skipper  having  discovered  that  the 
insurance  was  safe,  he  found  himself  in  better  spirits  ;  so 
he  walked  down  along  the  wharves,  to  take  a  look  out  upon 
the  bay  and  shipping — when  lo,  and  behold,  he  sees  a  ves 
sel  so  amazingly  like  his  Two  Follies,  that  he  could  not 
refrain  from  exclaiming : 

"  Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  By  Christopher  Columbus— if  thar 
don't  come  my  old  beauty  and  Hez  Perkins,  too — hurrah!" 

The  overjoyed  skipper  went  off  into  a  double  hornpipe 
on  a  single  string  ;  and  as  the  veritable  schooner  came 


340  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

booming  saucily  up  the  bay  before  a  spanking  breeze,  with 
her  jib  spread,  the  skipper  called  out  in  a  voice  of  thunder 
and  gladness : 

"  Hel-lo  !  Hez  Perkins,  is  that  yeou  ?" 

"  Hel-lo  !  Cap'n,  I'm  coming,  by  pumpkins  !  Clear  the 
track  for  the  Two  Follies  !"  And  putting  her  head  in 
among  the  smacks  of  Long  Wharf,  Hez  let  her  rip  and 
smash  chock  up  fast  and  tight.  When  the  captain  landed 
on  his  own  deck,  he  rushed  into  the  arms  of  his  brave  mate 
Hezekiah,  and  they  had  a  regular  fraternal  hug  all  round 
— and  Hezekiah  Perkins,  in  behalf  of  his  wonderful  skill, 
perseverance  and  luck,  was  unanimously  voted  first  mate 
of  the  Two  Pollies  on  the  spot.  It  appeared  that  a  change 
of  wind  during  the  night  had  driven  the  wandering  vessel 
back  into  the  bay,  and  Hezekiah,  having  got  over  his  sick 
spell  by  daylight,  crawled  forward,  got  up  the  jib,  and  ac- 
tualfy  made  the  wharf,  as  we  have  described. 


THE  philosophy  of  the  present  age  is  peculiarly  the  phi 
losophy  of  outsides.  Few  dive  deeper  into  the  human  breast 
than  the  bosom  of  the  shirt.  Who  could  doubt  the  heart 
that  beats  beneath  a  cambric  front  ?  or  who  imagine  that 
hand  accustomed  to  dirty  work  which  is  enveloped  in  white 
kid  ?  What  Prometheus  was  to  the  physical,  the  tailor  is 
to  the  moral  man — the  one  made  human  beings  out  of  clay, 
the  other  cuts  characters  out  of  broadcloth.  Gentility  is, 
with  us,  a  thing  of  the  goose  and  shears. 


(Bmptror  anfr  %  |jaor 


"The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword." 

GREAT  men  are  not  the  less  liable  or  addicted  to  very 
small,  and  very  mean,  and  sometimes  very  rascally 
acts,  but  they  are  always  fortunate  in  having  any  amount 
of  panegyric  graven  on  marble  slabs,  shafts  and  pillars,  o'er 
their  dust,  and  eulogistic  and  profound  histories  written  in 
memories  of  the  deeds  of  renown  and  glory  they  have  exe 
cuted.  An  American  74-gun  ship  would  hardly  float  the 
mountains  of  tomes  written  upon  Bonaparte  and  his  bril 
liant  career,  as  a  soldier  and  a  conqueror  ;  but  how  precious 
few,  insignificant  pages  do  we  ever  see  of  the  misdeeds, 
tyrannies  and  acts  of  petty  and  contemptuous  meanness  so 
great  a  man  was  guilty  of!  Why  should  authors  and  ora 
tors  be  so  reluctant  to  tell  the  truth  of  a  great  man's  fol 
lies  and  crimes,  seeing  with  what  convenience  and  fluency 
they  will  lie  for  him  ?  We  contend,  and  shall  contend,  that 
a  truly  great  man  cannot  be  guilty  of  a  small  act,  and  that 
one  contemptible  or  atrocious  manifestation  in  man,  is 
enough  to  sully  —  tarnish  the  brightness  of  a  dozen  brilliant 
deeds  ;  but  apparently,  the  accepted  notion  is  —  vice  versa. 
In  1830,  there  lived  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  a  bar 
ber,  a  poor,  harmless,  necessary  barber.  His  antique,  or 
most  curious  costume,  attracted  much  attention  about  the 
vicinity  in  which  he  lived,  and  no  doubt  added  somewhat 
to  the  custom  of  his  shop,  itself  a  bijou  as  curious  almost 
as  the  proprietor.  But  as  our  story  has  but  little  to  do 
with  the  queer  outside  of  the  barber  or  his  shop,  and  we  do 
not  now  purpose  a  whole  history  of  the  man,  we  shall  at 
once  proceed  to  the  pith  of  our  subject  —  the  Emperor  and 

(341) 


342  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

the  poor  Author,  or  Napoleon  and  his  Spies — and  in 
which  our  aforesaid  Philadelphia  barber  plays  a  conspicuous 
part. 

Some  of  the  writers,  a  few  of  those  partially  daring 
enough  to  give  an  impartial  expose  of  the  history  of  the 
Bonapartean  times,  seem  to  think  that  Napoleon  committed 
a  great  error  in  his  accession  to  the  throne,  by  doubting 
the  stability  of  his  reign,  and  having  pursued  exactly  mea 
sures  antipodean  to  those  necessary  to  seat  him  firmly  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people,  and  cement  the  foundation  of  his 
newly-acquired  power.  But  we  don't  think  so  ;  the  means 
by  which  he  obtained  the  giddy  height,  to  a  comprehensive 
mind  li-ke  his,  at  once  suggested  the  necessity  of  vigilance, 
promptness,  and  unflinching  execution  of  whatever  act, 
however  tyrannous  or  heartless  it  might  have  been,  his  un 
sleeping  mind  suggested — 

"Crowns  got  with  blood,  by  blood  must  be  maintained." 

Jealous  and  suspicious,  he  sought  to  shackle  public  opin 
ion — the  fearful  hydra  to  all  ambitious  aspirants — to  know 
all  secrets  of  the  time  and  states,  and  render  one  half  of  the 
great  nations  he  held  in  his  grasp  spies  upon  the  other  ! 
The  most  profligate  principles  of  Machiavel  sink  into 
obscurity  when  contrasted  with  the  Imperial  Espionage  of 
Napoleon.  When  no  longer  moving  squadrons  in  the 
tented  field — whole  armies,  like  so  many  pieces  of  chess  in 
the  hands  of  a  dexterous  player — he  sat  upon  his  throne, 
reclined  upon  his  lounge  or  smoked  in  his  bath,  organized 
and  moved  the  most  difficult  and  dangerous  forces  in  the 
world  — an  army  of  Spies  ! 

All  ages,  from  that  of  infancy  to  decrepitude — all  condi 
tions  of  life,  from  peer  to  parvenu — from  plough  to  the 
anvil — pulpit  to  the  bar — orators  and  beggars,  soldiers  and 
sailors,  male  and  female  of  every  grade — men  of  the  most 
insinuating  address,  and  women  of  the  most  seductive  ages 


THE  EMPEROR  AND  THE  POOR  AUTHOR.    343 

and  loveliness,  grace  and  beauty  were  enlisted  and  trained 
to  serve in  what  the  pot-bellied,  bald-headed  little  mon 
ster  of  war  used  to  call  his  Oytherian  Cohort !  Snares  set 
by  these  imperial  policemen  were  difficult  to  avoid,  from  the 
almost  utter  impossibility  of  suspicioning  their  presence  or 
power. 

In  1808,  a  learned  Italian,  noble  by  birth,  in  consequence 
of  the  movements  and  executions  of  Napoleon,  found  it 
prudent  to  shave  off  his  moustache  and  titles,  and  change 
the  scene  of  his  future  life,  as  well  as  change  his  name.  A 
master  of  languages  and  a  man  of  mind,  he  sought  the 
learned  precincts  of  Leipsic,  Germany,  where  he  preserved 
his  incognito,  though  he  was  not  long  in  winning  the  grace, 
and  other  considerations  due  enlarged  intellect,  from  those 
not  lacking  that  invaluable  commodity  themselves.  Herr 
Beethoven — the  new  title  of  our  Italian  "  mi  lord" — con 
ceived  the  project  of  convincing  the  mighty  Emperor— the 
hero  of  the  sword — that  so  little  a  javelin  as  the  pen  could 
puncture  the  sac  containing  all  his  great  pretensions,  and 
let  the  vapor  out ;  in  short,  to  show  the  conqueror,  that  the 
pen  was  mightier  than  his  magic  sword.  Beethoven  pur 
posed  writing  a  pamphlet  memorial,  involving  the  bom 
bastic  pretensions,  the  gigantic  extravagance  and  arrogant 
ambition  of  Bonaparte.  The  man  of  letters  well  knew  the 
ground  upon  which  he  was  to  tread,  the  danger  of  am 
bushed  foes,  involving  such  a  brochure,  and  the  caution 
necessary  with  which  he  was  to  produce  his  work.  But 
Beethoven  felt  the  necessity  of  the  production ;  he  pos 
sessed  the  power  to  execute  a  great  benefit  to  his  fellow 
man,  and  he  determined  to  wield  it  and  take  the  chances. 
Though  scarcely  giving  breath  to  his  project — guarding 
each  page  of  his  writing  as  vigilantly  as  though  they  were 
each  blessed  with  the  enchantment  of  a  Koh-i-Noor — u 
mysterious  agency  discovered  the  fact — Napoleon  shook  in 


344 


HUMORS    OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 


his  royal  boots,  and  swore  in  good  round  French,  when  the 
following  missive  reached  his  royal  eye  :— 

Sire  (!) — A  plot  is  brewing  against  your  peace  ;  the 
safety  of  your  throne  is  menaced  by  a  villainous  scribe.  My 
informant,  who  has  read  the  manuscripts,  informs  me  that 
he  has  never  seen  any  thing  better  or  more  imposing,  and 
ingenious  in  argument  and  force,  than  the  fellow's  appeal  to 
all  the  crowned  heads  and  people  of  Europe.  It  is  calcu 
lated  to  carry  an  irresistible  conviction  of  the  wrongs  they 
suffer  from  your  imperial  majesty  to  every  breast.  These 
manuscripts  are  fraught  with  more  danger  to  your  Imperial 
Majesty's  Empire,  than  all  the  hostile  bayonets  in  the  world 
combined  against  you,  Sire. 

Leipsic,  1808.  BARON  DE . 

Here  was  a  hot  shot  dangling  over  the  magazines  of  the 
mighty  man,  and  the  "  little  corporal"  jumped  into  his 
boots,  and  began  to  set  the  wheels  of  his  great  "  expe 
diency"  in  motion.  A  message  flew  here,  and  another 
there ;  a  dispatch  to  this  one,  and  a  royal  order  to  that  one. 
A  dozen  secretaries,  and  a  score  of  amanuensises  were  in 
stantly  at  work,  and  the  alarmed  "  Emperor  of  all  the 
French"  fairly  beat  the  reveille  upon  his  diamond-cased 
snuff  box  ;  while,  with  the  rapidity  of  the  clapper  of  an 
alarm  bell,  he  issued  to  each  the  oral  order  to  which  they 
were  to  lend  enchantment  by  their  rapid  quills. 

Herr  Beethoven  was  surprised  in  his  very  closet !  Papers 
were  found  scattered  all  over  his  little  sanctum — the  spies 
had  him  and  his  effects,  most  promptly  ;  but  what  was  the 
rage  and  disappointment  of  the  emissaries  of  the  wily 
monarch,  to  find  neither  hair  nor  hide  of  the  dreaded  fiat  I 
Had  it  gone  forth  ?  Was  it  secreted  ?  Was  it  written  ? 
They  had  the  man,  but  his  flesh  and  blood  were  as  value 
less  as  a  pebble  to  a  diamond,  contrasted  with  the  witchery 
of  the  words  he  had  invested  a  few  sheets  of  simple  paper 
with !  They  searched  his  clothes — tore  up  his  bed,  broke 


THE  EMPEROR  AND  THE  POOR  AUTHOR.    345 

up  his  furniture,  powdered  his  few  pieces  of  statuary,  but 
all  in  vain — the  sought  for,  dreaded,  and  hated  documents, 
for  which  his  Imperial  highness  would  have  secretly  given 
ten — twenty — fifty  thousand  louis — was  not  to  be  found  ! 
The  rage  of  the  inquisitors  was  terrific — showing  how 
well  they  were  chosen  or  paid,  to  serve  in  their  atrocious 
capacities.  The  poor  scribe  was  promised  all  manner  of  un 
pleasant  finales,  cursed,  menaced,  and  finally  coaxed. 

"  I  have  written  nothing. — published  nothing,  nor  do  I 
intend  to  write  or  publish  anything,"  was  Beethoven's  reply. 

"  Speak  fearlessly,"  said  the  chief  of  the  inquisitors, 
"and  rely  upon  a  generous  monarch's  benevolence.  My 
commission,  sir,  is  limited  to  ascertain  whether  poverty  has 
not  compelled  you  to  write  ;  if  that  be  the  case,  speak  out ; 
place  any  price  upon  your  work — the  price  is  nothing — I 
will  pay  you  at  once  and  destroy  your  documents." 

"Your  offers,  sir,"  responded  the  poor  author,  "are 
most  kind  and  liberal,  and  I  regret  extremely  that  it  is  not 
in  my  power  to  avail  myself  of  them.  I  again  declare,  sir, 
that  I  have  never  written  anything  against  the  French  go 
vernment — your  information  to  the  contrary  is  false  and 
wicked." 

The  spies,  finding  they  could  not  gain  any  information  of 
the  author,  by  threat  or  bribe,  carried  him  to  France,  where 
his  doom  was  supposed  to  be  sealed  in  torture  and  death, 
in  the  Bastile  of  the  Emperor. 

But  where  was  this  fearful  manuscript — this  dreaded 
scribbling  of  the  God-forsaken,  poor,  forlorn  author  ?  The 
emissaries  of  his  serene  highness  had  the  blood,  bones,  and 
body  of  the  wretched  scribe,  but  where  was  that  they  feared 
more  than  all  the  warlike  forces  of  a  million  of  the  best 
equipped  forces  of  Europe — the  paltry  paper  pellets  of  a 
scholar's  brain — the  memorial  to  the  crowned  heads,  and 
people  of  the  several  shivering  monarchies  of  continental 
Europe  ? 


346  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

A  few  brief  hours— not  two  days — before  the  pseudo 
Herr  Beethoven  was  honored  by  the  special  considerations 
and  attentions  of  the  Emperor  of  all  the  French— the  con 
queror  of  a  third,  at  least,  of  the  civilized  world — he  had 
conceived  suspicions  of  a  man  to  whom  in  the  most  profound 
confidence  he  had  revealed  a  slight  whisper  of  his  projects 
. — impressed  with  the  foreshadowing  that  a  mysterious 
something  dangerous  was  about  to  menace  him,  he  made 
way  with  the  manuscripts,  to  which  his  soul  clung  as  too 
dear  and  precious  to  be  destroyed— he  gave  them  to  the 
charge  of  a  tried  friend — and  before  the  Cytherian  Cohort 
were  upon  the  threshold  of  the  author,  his  memorial  was 
snugly  ensconced  in  the  obscure  and  remote  secretary  of  a 
gentleman  and  a  man  of  letters,  in  the  renowned  city  of 
Prague.  The  alarm  and  friend's  appearance  seemed  most 
opportune — for  an  hour  after  the  visitation  of  the  one,  the 
other  was  at  hand — the  documents  transferred  and  on  their 
way  to  their  place  of  refuge. 

But  difficult  was  the  stepping-stone  to  Napoleon's  great 
ness — the  more  the  mystery  of  the  manuscripts  augmented 
. — the  more  enthusiastic  became  his  research — the  more  for 
midable  appeared  the  necessity  of  grasping  them ;  and  the 
determination,  at  all  hazards,  to  clutch  them,  before  they 
served  their  purpose ! 

"  Bring  me  the  manuscripts" — was  the  fiat  of  the  Em 
peror  :  I  care  not  how  you  obtain  them — get  them,  bring 
them  here  ;  and  mark  you,  let  neither  money,  danger  nor  fa 
tigue,  oppose  my  will.  Hence — bring  the  manuscripts  !" 

Again  Lcipsic  was  invested  by  the  Cytherian  Cohort  of 
the  modern  Alexander  ;  the  rival  of  Hannibal,  the  great 
little  commandant  of  the  most  warlike  nation  of  the  earth. 

The    Baron  ,  who  was   master  of  ceremonies  in    this 

great  enterprise,  now  arrested  the  secret  agent  who  had 
given  the  information  of  the  existence  of  the  memorial.  This 
wretch  had  received  five  hundred  crowns  for  his  espionage 


THE  EMPEROR  AND  THE  POOR  AUTHOR.    347 

and  treachery.  His  fee  was  to  be  quadrupled  if  his  atro 
cious  information  proved  correct ;  so  dear  is  the  mere  fore 
shadowing  of  ill  news  to  vaunting  ambition  and  quaking 
imposters.  Bengert,  the  German  spy,  was  sure  of  the  gen 
uineness  of  his  information — he  was  much  astonished  that 
the  Baron  had  not  seized  the  memorial,  as  well  as  the  body 
of  the  hapless  author.  The  Baron  and  the  treacherous 
German  conferred  at  length ;  an  idea  seemed  to  strike  the 

spy- 

"I  have  it,"  he  exclaimed,  a  few  days  before  his  arrest. 
"I  saw  a  friend  visit  Beethoven  ;  I  know  they  both  enter 
tained  the  same  sentiments  in  regard  to  the  Emperor — that 
man  has  the  manuscripts." 

Where  was  that  man  ?  It  was  finding  the  needle  in  the 
hay  stack — the  pebble  in  the  brook.  Again  the  Emperor 
urged,  and  the  Cyiherian  Cohort  plied  their  cunning  and 
perseverance.  That  friend  of  the  poor  author  was  found — 
he  was  tilling  his  garden,  surrounded  by  his  flower  pots  and 
children,  on  the  outskirts  of  Prague,  Bohemia.  It  was  in 
vain  he  questioned  his  captors.  He  dropped  his  gardening 
implements — blessed  his  children — kissed  them,  and  was 
hurried  off,  he  knew  not  whither  or  wherefore  !  Shaubert  was 
this  man's  name ;  he  was  forty,  a  widower — a  scholar,  a 
poet — liberally  endowed  by  wealth,  and  loved  the  women  ! 

It  was  Baron 's  province  to  find  out  the  weak  points 

of  each  victim. 

"  If  he  has  a  particular  regard  for  poetry,  he  does  love 
the  fine  arts,"  quoth  the  Baron,  "  and  women  are  the  queens 
of  fine  arts.  I'll  have  him  !" 

In  the  secret  prison  of  Shaubert  he  found  an  old  man, 
confined  for — he  could  not  learn  what.  Every  day,  the  yet 
youthful  and  most  fascinating,  voluptuous  and  beautiful 
daughter  of  the  old  man,  visited  his  cell,  which  was  adjoin 
ing  that  of  Shaubert's.  As  she  did  so,  it  was  not  long  be 
fore  she  found  occasion  to  linger  at  the  door  of  the  widower, 


348  HUMORS    OE    FALCONBRIDGE. 

the  poet — and  sigh  so  piteously  as  to  draw  from  the 
victim,  at  first  a  holy  poem,  and  at  length  an  amative  love 
lay.  Like  fire  into  tow  did  this  effusion  of  the  poet's  quill 
inflame  the  breast  and  arouse  the  passions  of  the  lovely 
Bertha  ;  and  in  an  obscure  hour,  after  pouring  forth  the 
soul's  burden  of  most  vehement  love,  the  angel  in  woman's 
form  (!),  with  implements  as  perfect  as  the  very  jailor's, 
opened  all  the  bolts  and  bars,  and  led  the  captive  forth  to 
liberty !  She  would  have  the  poet  who  had  entranced 
her,  fly  and  leave  her  to  her  fate  !  But  poetry  scorned  such 
dastardy — it  was  but  to  brave  the  uncertainty  of  fate  to 
stay,  and  torture  to  go — Bertha  must  fly  with  him.  She 
had  a  father — could  she  leave  him  in  bondage  ?  No  !  She 
had  rescued  her  lover — she  braved  more — released  her 
parent  in  the  next  hour,  by  the  same  mysterious  means,  and 
giving  herself  up  to  the  tempest  of  love,  she  shared  in  the 
flight  of  the  poet.  In  a  remote  section  of  chivalric  Bo 
hemia,  they  found  an  asylum.  But  Bertha  was  as  yet  but 
the  deliverer  from  bondage,  if  not  death,  of  her  soul's  idol ; 
he,  with  all  the  warmth  and  gratitude  of  a  dozen  poets,  wor 
shipped  at  her  feet  and  besought  her  to  bless  him  evermore 
by  sharing  his  fate  and  fortune.  There  was  a  something 
imposing,  a  something  that  brought  the  pearly  tear  to  the 
heroic  girl's  eye  and  made  that  lovely  bosom  undulate  with 
most  sad  emotion.  The  poet  pressed  her  to  his  heart — fell 
at  her  feet,  and  begged  that  if  his  life — property — children 
— be  the  sacrifice — but  let  him  know  the  secret  at  once — he 
was  her  friend — defender — lover — slave.  Another  sigh, 
and  the  spell  was  broken. 

"  Why — ah !  why  were  you  a  state  prisoner — a  secret 
prisoner  in  the ?" 

"Loved  angel,"  answered  the  poet,  "I  scarce  can  tell; 
indeed  I  have  not  the  merest  hint,  in  my  own  mind,  to  tell 
me  for  what  I  was  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison  !" 

"  Ah  !  sir,"  sighed  the  lovely  Bertha,  "  I  can  never  then 


THE    EMPEROR    AND    THE    POOR    AUTHOR.         349 

wed  the  man  I  love — I  cannot  brave  the  dangers  of  an  un 
known  fate — at  some  moment  least  expected,  to  be  torn 
from  his  arms — lost  to  him  forever  !" 

"  We  can  fly,  dearest,"  suggested  the  poet,  "  we  can  fly  to 
other  and  more  secure  lands.  In  the  sunshine  of  your  sweet 
smile,  my  dear  Bertha,  obscurity— poverty  would  be 
nothing." 

"  No,"  said  the  'girl,  "  I  cannot  leave  my  father — the 
land  of  my  birth — home  of  my  childhood.  I  that  have  given 
you  liberty,  may  point  out  a  way  to  deliver  you  from  further 
restraint.  How  I  learned  the  nature  of  your  crime,  ask 
not ;  I  know  your  secret." 

"  Ah  !  what  mean  you  ?" 

"  In  a  foolish  hour,"  continued  the  lovely  Bertha,  with 
downcast  eyes  and  heaving  bosom,  "you  impaled  your 
generous  self  to  save  a  friend — the  friend  fled — you  were  ar 
rested — " 

"Good  God!"  exclaimed  the  poet,  "Herr  Beetho 
ven " 

"  Gave  you  possession  of "  she  continued. 

"No!  no!  no!"  interposed  the  affrighted  poet,  daring 
not  to  breathe  "  yes,"  even  to  the  ear  of  his  fair  preserver. 

"  Sir,"  calmly  continued  the  girl,  "I  have  risked  my  own 
life  and  liberty  to  preserve  yours,  I  have — 

"  I — I  know  it  all,  dear — dearest  angel,  but " 

"  Those  manuscripts,"  she  continued,  fixing  her  keen  but 
melting  gaze  upon  the  poor  victim. 

"  Ha  !  manuscripts  ?  How  learned  you  this  ?  No,  no, 
it  cannot  be " 

"  It  is  known — I  know  it — I  learned  it  from  your  captors  ; 
but  for  my  Zoce,"  said  the  girl,  "  mad — guilty  love — your 
life  would  have  been  forfeited — your  house  pillaged  by  the 
emissaries  of  the  Emperor,  in  quest  of  those  manuscripts. 
While  they  exist,  Bertha  cannot  be  happy — Bertha's  love 
must  die  with  her — Bertha  be  ever  miserable  !" 


350  HUMORS    OP   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  I-a — I  will — but  no  !  no  !  I  have  no  manuscripts  !  It 
is  false — false  !"  exclaimed  the  almost  distracted  poet. 

"  Herr  Shaubert,"  said  the  girl,  clasping  the  hand  of  the 
poet,  and  throwing  herself  at  his  feet,  "  am  I  unworthy 
your  love  ?" 

"  Dear,  dear  Bertha,  do  not  torture  me  !    do  not,   for 

God's  sake  1     Rise  ;  let  me  at  your  feet  swear,  iu  answer 

No  /" 

"  Then,  within  four-arid-twenty  hours,  let  me  grasp  that 
hated,  damned  viper,  that  would  gnaw  the  heart's  core  of 
Bertha.  Give  me  the  key  of  your  misery  ;  0  !  bless  me— 
bless  your  Bertha  ;  give  me  those  accursed  manuscripts, 
daggers  bequeathed  you  by  a  false  friend,  that  I  may  at 
once,  in  your  presence,  give  them  to  the  flames  ;  and  Ber 
tha,  the  idol  of  your  soul,  be  ever  more  blessed  and 
happy  !" 

This  appeal  settled  the  business  of  the  poet ;  he  walked 
the  room,  sighed,  tore  his  mouchoir,  oscillated  between 
honor  and  temptation — the  angel  form  and  syren  tongue 
of  the  woman  triumphed.  In  course  of  a  dozen  hours, 
Bertha,  the  lovely,  enchanting  spy,  opened  the  secret 
drawers  of  the  poet's  secretary,  and  amid  carefully-packed 
literary  rubbish,  the  dreaded  memorial  was  found — clutched 
with  the  eagerness  of  a  death-reprieve  to  a  poor  felon  upon 
the  verge  of  eternity,  and  with  the  despatch  of  an  hundred 
swift  relays,  the  poor  author's  manuscripts  were  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  mighty  Emperor,  and  while  he  read  their 
fearful  purport,  and  flashed  with  rage  or  grew  livid  with 
each  scathing  word  of  the  memorial,  he  hurriedly  issued 
his  orders — gain  to  this  one,  sacrifice  to  that  one  ;  while 
he  made  the  spy  a  countess,  he  ordered  hideous  death  to 
the  poor  poet  and  despair  and  misery  to  his  children. 

"  Fly  !"  the  monarch  shouted,  "  search  every  one  sus 
pected  of  a  hand  in  this  ;  let  them  be  dealt  with  instantly 
— trouble  me  not  with  detail,  but  give  me  sure  returns. 


THE  EMPEROR  AND  THE  POOR  AUTHOR.    351 

Stop  not,  until  this  viper  is  exterminated ;  egg  and  tooth  ; 
fang  and  scale  ;  see  it  done  and  claim  my  bounty — fly!" 

That  snake  was  scotched  and  killed — the  few  brief  pages 
of  an  obscure  author  that  drove  sleep,  appetite  and  peace 
from  the  mighty  Emperor,  for  days  and  nights — made  busy 
work  for  his  thousands  of  emissaries — scattered  his  gold  in 
weighty  streams — was  read,  cursed  and  destroyed,  and  all 
suspected  as  having  the  slightest  voice  or  opinion  in  the 
secret  memorial,  met  a  secret  fate — death  or  prolonged 
wretchedness. 

Herr  Beethoven,  the  poor  author,  alone  escaped  ;  being 
overlooked  in  the  hot  pursuit  of  his  production,  and  by  the 
blunder  of  those  having  charge  of  himself  and  hundreds  of 
other  state  prisoners — guilty  or  suspected  opponents  to  the 
vaulting  ambition  and  power  of  him  that  at  last  ended  his 
own  eventful  career  as  a  helpless  prisoner  upon  an  ocean 
isle — was  liberated  and  lost  no  time  in  making  his  way  be 
yond  the  reach  of  monarchs,  tyranny  and  bondage.  Beet 
hoven  came  to  America  and  settled  in  Philadelphia,  where, 
in  the  humble  capacity  of  an  e-razer  of  beards  and  primer 
of  human  mops,  he  eked  out  a  reasonable  existence  for  the 
residue  of  his  earthly  existence  ;  few,  perhaps,  dreaming  in 
their  profoundest  philosophy,  that  the  little,  eccentric -at 
tired,  grotesque-looking  barber,  who  tweaked  their  plebeian 
noses  and  combed  their  caputs,  once  rejoiced  in  grand  he 
raldic  escutcheons  upon  his  carriage  panels  as  a  veritable 
Count,  and  still  later  made  the  throne  tremble  beneath  the 
feet  of  a  second  Alexander  ! 

But  God  is  great,  and  the  ways  of  our  every-day  life,  full 
of  change  and  mystery. 


THE  American  "  Ole  Bull,"  young  Howard,  one  of  the 
most  scientific  crucifiers  of  the  violin  we  ever  heard, 
gave  us  a  call  t'other  day,  and  not  only  discoursed  heavenly 
music  upon  his  instrument,  but  gave  us  the  "nub"  of  a 
few  jokes  worth  dishing  up  in  our  peculiar  style.  Howard 
spent  last  winter  in  a  tour  over  the  State  of  Maine  and 
Canada.  During  this  cool  excursion,  he  got  way  up  among 
the  luoocZ-choppers  and  log-men  of  the  Aroostook  and 
Penobscot  country.  These  wood-chopping  andlog-rolling 
gentry,  according  to  all  accounts,  must  be  a  jolly,  free-and- 
easy,  hard-toiling  and  hardy  race.  The  "  folks"  up  about 
there  live  in  very  primitive  style  ;  their  camps  and  houses 
are  very  useful,  but  not  much  addicted  to  the  "  orna 
mental."  Howard  had  a  very  long,  tedious  and  perilous 
tramp,  on  foot,  during  a  part  of  his  peregrinations,  and 
coming  at  last  upon  the  settlement  of  the  log-men,  he  laid 
up  several  days,  to  recuperate.  In  the  largest  log  building 
of  the  several  in  the  neighborhood,  Howard  lodged  ;  the 
weather  was  intensely  cold— house  crowded,  and  wood  and 
game  plenty.  After  a  hard  day's  toil,  in  snow  and  water, 
these  log-men  felt  very  much  inclined  to  sleep.  A  huge 
fire  was  usuallyleft  upon  the  hearth,  after  the  "tea  things" 
were  put  away,  Howard  gave  them  a,choon  or  two,  and  then 
the  woodmen  lumbered  up  a  rude  set  of  steps — into  a  capa 
cious  loft  overhead,  and  there,  amid  the  old  quilts,  robes,  skins 
and  straw,  enjoyed  their  sound  and  refreshing  sleep — with 
a  slight  drawback. 

Among  these  men  of  the  woods,  was  a  hard  old  nut,  called 
and  known  among  them  as — Old  Tantabolus!     He  was  a 
(352) 


THE    BIGGER   FOOL,    THE   BETTER   LUCK.  353 

wiry  and  hardy  old  rooster  ;  though  his  frosty  poll  spoke 
of  the  many,  many  years  he  had  "  been  around,"  his  body 
was  yet  firm  and  his  perceptions  yet  clear.  The  old  man 
was  a  grand  spinner  of  yarns  ;  he  had  been  all  around 
creation,  and  various  other  places  not  set  down  in  the  maps. 
He  had  been  a  soldier  and  sailor  :  been  blown  up  and  shot 
down :  had  had  all  the  various  ills  flesh  was  heir  to :  suf 
fered  from  shipwreck  and  indigestion  :  witnessed  the  frowns 
and  smiles  of  fortune — especially  the  frowns;  in  short,  ac 
cording  to  old  man  Tantabolus's  own  account  of  himself, 
he  had  seen  more  ups  and  downs,  and  made  more  narrow 
and  wonderful  escapes,  than  Robinson  Crusoe  and  Gulliver 
both  together — with  Baron  Trenck  into  the  bargain  ! 

For  the  first  season,  the  old  man  and  his  narrations,  be 
ing  fresh  and  novel,  he  was  quite  a  lion  among  the  wood 
men,  but  now  that  the  novelty  had  worn  off,  and  they'd  got 
used  to  his  long  yarns,  they  voted  him  "an  old  bore  !"  The 
old  fellow  smoked  a  tremendous  pipe,  with  tobacco  strong 
enough  to  give  a  Spaniard  the  "  yaller  fever."  He  would 
eat  his  supper,  light  his  pipe — sit  down  by  the  fire,  and 
spin  yarns,  as  long  as  a  listener  remained,  and  longer.  In 
short,  Old  Tantabolus  would  spin  them  all  to  bed,  and 
then  make  their  heads  spin,  with  the  clouds  of  baccy  smoke 
with  which  he'd  fill  the  ranche. 

Going  to  bed,  at  length,  on  a  bunk  in  a  corner,  the  old 
chap  would  wheeze  and  snore  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  then 
turning  out  again,  between  daybreak  and  midnight,  Old 
Tantabolus  would  pile  on  a  cord  or  two  of  fresh  wood — 
raise  a  roaring  fire — make  the  ranctie  hot  enough  to  roast 
an  ox,  then  treat  all  hands  to  another  stifling  with  his 
old  calumet,  and  nigger-head  tobacco  !  Then  would  com 
mence  a — 

"  A-book  !  oo-oo /"  by  one  of  the  lodgers,  overhead. 

"Boo-oo-oo/t/  Old  Tantabolus's  got  that— booh-oo-oo- 
oo, — pipe  of  his'n  again, — boo-oo-oo  !"  chimed  another. 
22 


354  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  A-a-a-c/iee  /  oo-oo-augh-h-h-c/i-c/iee  /  Cuss  that — 
&-chee — pipe.  Tantabolus,  you  old  boss-marine,  put  out 
that — a-c/iee  / — darn'd  old  pipe  !"  bawled  another. 

"  A'nand?"  was  the  old  fellow's  usual  reply. 

"  A-boo-ooh-oo/i  /"  hoarse  and  loud  as  a  boatswain's 
call,  in  a  gale  of  wind,  would  be  issued  from  the  throat  of 
au  old  "logger,"  as  the  fumigacious  odor  interfered  with 
his  respiratory  arrangements,  and  then  would  follow  a  mis 
cellaneous — 

"  A-chee-o  I  Ah-chee  f  boo-ooh-oo-oo/i  /"  tapering  off 
with  divers  curses  and  threats,  upon  Old  Tantabolus  and 
his  villanous  habits  of  arousing  "  the  whole  community"  in 
"the  dead  watches  and  middle  of  the  night,"  with  heat  and 
smoke,  no  flesh  and  blood  but  his  own  could  apparently 
endure. 

At  length,  a  private  caucus  was  held,  and  a  diabolical 
plan  set,  to  put  a  summary  end  to  the  grievous  nuisances 
engendered  by  Old  Tantabolus — "  let's  blow  him  up!" 

And  this  they  agreed  to  do  in  this  wise.  Before  "re 
tiring  to  rest,"  as  we  say  in  civilized  parlance,  the  lodging 
community  were  in  the  habit  of  laying  in  a  surplus  of 
firewood,  alongside  of  the  capacious  fire-place,  in  order — 
should  a  very  common  occurrence  occur, — i.  e.,  a  fall  of 
snow  six  to  ten  feet  deep,  and  kiver  things  all  up,  the  in 
siders  might  have  wherewith  to  make  themselves  comforta 
ble,  until  they  could  work  out  and  provide  more.  But  Old 
Tantabolus  was  in  the  wasteful  practice  of  turning  out  and 
burning  up  all  this  extra  fuel ;  so  the  caucus  agreed  to  bore 
an  inch  and  a  quarter  hole  into  a  solid  stick — pack  it  with 
powder — lay  it  among  the  wood,  and  when  Old  Tantabolus 
riz  to  fire  up,  he'd  be  bio  wed  out  of  the  building,  and  dis 
appear — in  a  blue  blaze  !  Well,  poor  old  man,  Tantabolus, 
quite  unconscious  of  the  dire  explosion  awaiting  him,  told 
his  yarns,  next  evening,  with  greater  gusto  than  usual,  and 
one  after  another  of  his  listeners  (inally  dropped  off  to  roost, 


THE   BIGGER   FOOL,    THE   BETTER    LUCK.  355 

in  the  loft  above,  leaving  the  old  man  to  go  it  alone — finish 
his  pipe,  stagnate  the  air  and  go  to  his  bunk,  which, 
as  was  his  wont  to  do — he  did.  Stillness  reigned  supreme ; 
though  Old  Tantabolus  took  his  usual  snooze  in  very  appa 
rent  confidence,  many  of  his  no  less  weary  companions 
above — watched  for  the  approaching  tableaux!  And  they 
were  gratified,  to  their  heart's  content,  for  the  tableaux 
came  ! 

"Now,  look  out,  boys  1"  says  one,  "Old  Tanty's  about 
to  wake  up  !"  and  then  some  dozen  of  the  upper  story 
lodgers,  who  had  kept  their  peepers  open  to  enjoy  the  fun, 
began  to  spread  around  and  pull  away  the  loose  straw  in 
order  to  get  a  view  of  the  scene  below.  Sure  enough,  the 
old  rooster  gave  a  long  yawn — "  Aw-w-w-w-um  /"  flirted 
off  his  "  kiverlids"  and  got  up,  making  a  slow  move  to 
wards  the  fire-place,  reaching  which,  he  gave  an  extra 

"  Aw-w-w-wm/"  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe filled 

it  up  with  "  nigger-head,"  dipped  it  in  the  embers,  gave  it 
a  few  whiffs,  and  then  said  : 

"Booh!  cold  morniu';  boys '11  freeze,  if  I  don't  start 
up  a  good  fire."  Then  he  went  to  work  to  cultivate  a 
blaze,  with  a  few  chips  and  light  sticks  of  dry  wood. 

"  Ah,  by  George,  old  feller,"  says  one,  "you'll  catch  a 
bite,  before  you  know  it  1" 

"  Yes,  I'm  blamed  if  you  ain't  a  goner,  Old  Tantabolus  I" 
says  another,  in  a  pig's  whisper. 

"  There  1  there  he's  got  the  fire  up — now  look  out I" 

"  He's  got  the  stick—" 

"  Goin'  to  clap  it  on  !" 

"Now  it's  on!" 

"  Look  out  for  fun,  by  George,  look  out !" 

"  He'll  blow  the  house  up  !" 

"  Godfrey  !  s'pose  he  does  ?'- 

"  What  an  infernal  wind  there  is  this  morning  !"  says  the 
old  fellow,  hearing  the  buzz  and  indistinct  whispering  over- 


356  HUMORS    OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 

head;  "  guess  it's  snowin'  like  sin;  I'll  jist  start  up  this 
fire  and  go  out  and  see."  But,  he  had  scarcely  reached 
and  opened  the  door,  when — "  bany-g-y  /"  went  the  log, 
with  the  roar  of  a  twelve  pounder  ;  hurling  the  fire,  not 
only  all  over  the  lower  floor,  but  through  the  upper  loose 
flooring — setting  the  straw  beds  in  a  blaze — filling  the 
house  with  smoke,  ashes  and  fire  !  There  was  a  general 
and  indiscriminate  rush  of  the  practical  jokers  in  the  loft, 
to  make  an  escape  from  the  now  burning  building ;  but  the 
step-ladder  was  knocked  down,  and  it  was  at  the  peril 
of  their  lives,  that  all  hands  jumped  and  crawled  oat  of 
the  ranchc  !  The  only  one  who  escaped  the  real  danger 
was  Old  Tantabolus,  the  intended  victim,  whose  remark 
was,  after  the  flurry  was  over — "Boys,  arter  this,  be  care 
ful  how  you  lay  your  powder  round!" 


Jin 

GEN.  HOUSTON  lives,  when  at  home,  at  Huntsville, 
Texas  ;  the  inhabitants  mostly  live,  says  Humboldt,  Bees 
wax,  Borax,  or  some  of  the  other  historians,  by  hunting. 
The  wolves  act  as  watchmen  at  night,  relieved  now  and 
then  by  the  Ingins,  who  make  the  wig  business  brisk  by 
relieving  straggling  citizens  of  their  top-knots.  A  man 
engaged  in  a  quiet  smoke,  sees  a  deer  or  bear  sneaking 
around,  and  by  taking  down  his  rifle,  has  steaks  for  break 
fast,  and  a  haunch  for  next  day's  dinner,  right  at  his  door. 
Vegetables  and  fruit  grow  naturally ;  flowers  come  up  and 
bloom  spontaneously.  The  distinguished  citizens  wear 
buck-skin  trowsers,  coon-skin  hats,  buffalo-skin  overcoats, 
and  alligator-hide  boots.  Old  San  Jacinto  walked  into 
the  Senate  last  winter — fresh  from  home — with  a  panther- 
skin  vest,  and  bear-skin  breeches  on !  Great  country,  that 
Texas. 


m  a 


CONSCIENCE  sakes  !  but  hain't  they  got  a  lot  of  pork 
here  ?"  said  a  looker-on  in   Quincy  Market,  t'other 
day. 

"  Pork  !"  echoes  a  decidedly  Green  Mountain  biped,  at 
the  elbow  of  the  first  speaker. 

"Yes,  I  vow  it's  quite  as-tonishing  how  much  pork  is 
sold  here  and  et  up  by  somebody,"  continued  the  old  gent. 

"  Et  up  ?"  says  the  other,  whose  physical  structure  some 
what  resembled  a  fat  lath,  and  whose  general  contour  made 
it  self-evident  that  lie  was  not  given  much  to  frivolity, 
jauntily-fitting  coats  and  breeches,  or  perfumed  and  "fixed 
up"  barberality  extravagance. 

"Et  up  !"  he  thoughtfully  and  earnestly  repeated,  as  his 
hands  rested  in  the  cavity  of  his  trousers  pockets,  and  his 
eyes  rested  upon  the  first  speaker. 

"You  wern't  never  in  Cincinnatty,  /guess  ?" 

"  No,  I  never  was,"  says  the  old  gent. 

"  Never  was  ?  Well,  I  cal'lated  not.  Never  been  in  a 
Pork-haouse  ?" 

"Never,  unless  you  may  call  this  a  Pork-house?" 

"  The-is  ?  Pork-haouse  ?"  says  Yankee.  "  Well,  I  reckon 
not  —  don't  begin.  —  Hain't  nothin'  like  —  not  a  speck  in  a 
puddle  to  a  Pork-haouse  —  a  Cincinnatty  Pork-haouse  !" 

"  I've  hearn  that  they  carry  on  the  Pork  business  pooty 
stiff,  out  there,"  says  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Pooty  stiff  ?  Good  gravy,  but  don't  they  ?  'Pears  to 
me,  I  knew  yeou  somewhere  ?"  says  our  Yankee. 

"You  might,"  cautiously  answers  the  old  gent. 

"  'Tain't  'Squire  Smith,  of  Maoun-Peelier  ?" 

(357) 


358  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"N'no,  my  name's  Johnson,  sir." 

"  Johnson  ?     Oh,  in  the  tin  business  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not  in  business,  at  all,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

"Not?  Oh,"— thoughtfully  echoes  Yankee.  "Wall,  no 
matter,  I  thought  p'raps  yeou  were  from  up  aour  way — I'm 
from  near  Maoun-Peelier — State  of  Yarmount." 

"  Ah,  indeed  ?" 

"Ya-a-s." 

"  Fine  country,  I'm  told  ?"  says  the  old  gent. 

"  Ye-a-a-s,  'tis  ;" — was  the  abstracted  response  of  Yan 
kee,  who  seemed  to  be  revolving  something  in  his  own 
mind. 

"  Raise  a  great  deal  of  wool — fine  sheep  country  ?" 

"  'Tis  great  on  sheep.  But  sheep  ain't  nothin'  to  the 
everlasting  hog  craop  !" 

"  Think  not,  eh  ?"  said  the  old  gent. 

"  I  swow  teu  pucker,  if  I  hain't  seen  more  hogs  killed, 
afore  breakfast,  in  Cincinnatty,  than  would  burst  this 
buildin'  clean  open  !" 

"You  don't  tell  me  so?" 

"By  gravy,  I  deu,  though.  You  hain't  never  been  in 
Cincinnatty  ?" 

"  I  said  not." 

"  Never  in  a  Pork-haouse  ?" 

"Never." 

"  Wall,  yeou've  hearn  tell— of  Ohio,  I  reckon  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  got  a  daughter  living  out  there,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  Yeou  don't  say  so  ?" 

"  I  have,  in  Urbana,  or  near  it,"  said  the  old  gent. 

"Urbanny  !  Great  kingdom  !  why  I  know  teu  men  liv 
ing  aout  there  ;  one's  trading  Mother's  keepin'  school ;  may 
be  yeou  know  'em — Sampson  Wheeler's  one,  Jethro  Jones's 
t'other.  Jethro's  a  cousin  of  mine ;  his  fa'ther,  no,  his 


A     YANKEE    IN    A    PORK-HOUSE.  359 

mother  married — 'tain't  no  matter  ;  my  name's  Small, — Ap- 
pogee  Small,  and  I  was  talkin' " 

"About  the  hog  crop,  Cincin  natty  Pork-houses." 

"  Ye-a-a-s  ;  wall,  I  went  eout  West  last  fall,  stopped  at 
Cincinnatty — teu  weeks.  Dreadful  nice  place  ;  by  gravy, 
they  do  deu  business  there  ;  beats  Salvation  haow  they  go 
it  on  steamboats — bust  ten  a  day  and  build  six  !" 

"  Is  it  possible  r"'  says  the  old  gent;  "but  the  hogs " 

"  Deu  beat  all.  I  went  up  to  the  Pork-haouses ; — fus 
thing  you  meet  is  a  string — 'bout  a  mile  long,  of  big  and 
little  critters,  greasy  and  sassy  as  sin  ;  buckets  and  bags 
full  of  scraps,  tails,  ears,  snaouts  and  ribs  of  hogs.  Foller 
up  this  line  and  yeou  come  to  the  Pork-haouses,  and  yeou 
go  in,,  if  they  let  yeou,  and  they  did  me,  so  in  I  went,  teu 
an  almighty  large  haouse — big  as  all  aout  doors,  and  a 
feller  steps  up  to  me  and  says  he  : — 

"'Yeou're  a  stranger,  I  s'pose  ?" 

"'Yeou  deu?'  says  I. 

"  'Ye-a-a-s,'  says  he,  '  I  s'pose  so,'  and  I  up  and  said  I 
was. 

"  'Wall,'  says  he,  '  ef  you  want  to  go  over  the  haouse, 
we'll  send  a  feller  with  you  !' 

"  So  I  went  with  the  feller,  and  he  took  me  way  back, 
daown  stairs — aout  in  a  lot ;  a-a-a-nd  everlastin'  sin  !  yeou 
should  jist  seen  the  hogs — couldn't  caount  'em  in  three 
weeks  !" 

"  Good  gracious  1"  exclaims  the  old  gent. 

"  Fact,  by  gravy  !  Sech  squealing  kickin'  and  goin'  on  ; 
sech  cussin'  and  hollerin',  by  the  fellers  pokin'  'em  in  at  one 
eend  of  the  lot  and  punchin'  on  'em  aout  at  t'other  I  Sech 
a  smell  of  hogs  and  fat,  brisseh  and  hot  water,  I  swan  teu 
pucker,  I  never  did  cal'late  on,  afore  ! 

"  Wall,  as  fast  as  they  driv'  'em  in  by  droves,  the  fellers 
kept  a  craowdin'  'em  daown  towards  the  Pork -haouse;  there 
two  fellers  kept  a  shootin'  on  'em  daown,  and  a  hull  gang 


360  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

of  the  all-firedest  dirty,  greasy-looking  fellers  aout — stuck 
'era,  hauled  'em  daown,  and  afore  yeou  could  say  Sam 
Patch  !  them  hogs  were  yanked  aout  of  the  lot — killed — 
scalded  and  scraped." 

"  Mighty  quick  work,  I  guess,"  says  the  old  gent. 

"  Quick  work  ?  Yeou  ought  to  see  'em.  Haow  many 
hogs  deu  yeou  cal'late  them  fellers  killed  and  scraped  a 
day  ?" 

"  Couldn't  possibly  say — hundreds,  I  expect." 

"  Hundreds  !  Grea-a-at  King !  Why,  I  see  'em  kill 
thirteen  hundred  in  teu  hours  ; — did,  by  golly  !" 

"  Yeou  don't  say  so  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  And  a  feller  with  grease  enough  abaout  him 
to  make  a  barrel  of  saft  soap,  said  that  when  they  hurried 
'em  up  some  they  killed,  scalded  and  scraped  ten  thousand 
hogs  in  a  day;  and  when  they  put  on  the  steam,  twenty 
thousand  porkers  were  killed  off  and  cut  up  in  a  single 
day !" 

"  I  want  to  know  !" 

"  Yes,  sir.  "Wall,  we  went  into  the  haouse,  where  they 
scalded  the  critters  fast  as  they  brought  'em  in.  By  gravy ^ 
it  was  amazin'  how  the  brissels  flew  !  Afore  a  hog  knew 
what  it  was  all  abaout,  he  was  bare  as  a  punkin — a  hook 
and  tackle  in  his  snaout,  and  up  they  snaked  him  on  to  the 
next  floor.  I  vow  they  kept  a  slidin'  and  snakiu'  'em  in 
and  up  through  the  scuttles — jest  in  one  stream  ! 

"  'Let's  go  up  and  see  'em  cut  the  hogs,'  says  the  feller. 

"Up  we  goes.  Abaout  a  hundred  greasy  fellers  were  a 
hacken  on  'em  up.  13y  golly,  it  was  deth  to  particular 
people  the  way  the  fat  and  grease  flew  !  Two  whacks — 
fore  and  aft,  as  Uncle  Jeems  used  to  say — split  the  hog ; 
one  whack,  by  a  greasy  feller  with  an  everlasting  chunk  of 
sharpened  iron,  and  the  hog  was  quartered — grabbed  and 
carried  off  to  another  block,  and  then  a  set  of  savagerous- 
lookin'  chaps  layed  to  and  cut  and  skirted  around  ; — hams 


GERMAN    CAUTION.  361 

and  shoulders  were  going  one  way,  sides  and  middlins  an 
other  way ;  wall,  I'm  screwed  if  the  hull  room  didn't  'pear 
to  be  full  of  flying  pork — in  hams,  sides,  scraps  and  greasy 
fellers— rippin'  and  a  tearin' !  Daown  in  another  place  they 
were  saltin'  and  packin'  away,  like  sin  !  Daown  in  the  other 
place  they  were  frying  aout  the  lard — fillin'  barrels,  from  a 
regular  river  of  fat,  coming  aout  of  the  everlastin'  biggest 
bilers  yeou  ever  did  see,  I  vow  !  Now,  I  asked  the  feller 
if  sich  hurryin'  a  hog  through  a  course  of  spraouts  helped 
the  pork  any,  and  he  said  it  didn't  make  any  difference,  he 
s'pected.  He  said  they  were  not  hurryin'  then,  but  if  I 
would  come  in,  some  day,  when  'steam  was  up,'  he'd  show 
me  quick  work  in  the  pork  business — knock  daown,  drag 
aout,  scrape,  cut  up,  arid  have  the  hog  in  the  barrel  before 
lie  got  through  squealiri1 ! 

"  Hello  I     Say  !— 'Squire,  gone  ?" 

The  old  gent  was — gone  ;   the  last  brick  hit  him  ! 


SOME  ten  years  since,  an  old  Dutchman  purchased  in  the 
vicinity  of  Brooklyn,  a  snug  little  farm  for  nine  thousand 
dollars.  Last  week,  a  lot  of  land  speculators  called  on  him 
to  "buy  him  out."  On  asking  his  price,  he  said  he  would 
take  "sixty  tousand  dollars — no  less." 

"And  how  much  may  remain  on  bond  and  mortgage  ?" 

"  Nine  tousand  dollars." 

"And  why  not  more,"  replied  the  would-be  purchasers. 

"  Because  der  tarn  place  ain't  worth  any  more." 

Ain't  that  Dutch. 


.  P'ConatJg's  (Srtal  gag  StII. 

A  GREAT  many  dogmas  have  been  written,  and  may 
continue  to  be  written,  on  dogs.  Confessing,  once, 
to  a  dogmatical  regard  for  dogs,  we  "went  in"  for  the  ca 
nine  race,  with  a  zeal  we  have  bravely  outgrown  ;  and  we 
live  to  wonder  how  men — to  say  nothing  of  spinsters  of  an 
uncertain  age — can  heap  money  and  affections  upon  these 
four-legged  brutes,  whose  sole  utility  is  to  doze  in  the 
corner  or  kennel,  terrify  stray  children,  annoy  horsemen, 
and  keep  wholesome  meat  from  the  stomachs  of  many  a 
poor,  starving  beggar  at  your  back  gate.  There  is  no  use 
for  dogs  in  the  city,  and  precious  little  use  for  them  any 
where  else  ;  arid  as  Boz  says  of  oysters — you  always  find  a 
preponderance  of  dogs  where  you  find  the  most  poor  people. 
Philadelphia's  the  place  for  dogs ;  in  the  suburbs,  espe 
cially  after  night,  if  you  escape  from  the  onslaught  of  the 
rowdies,  you  will  find  the  dogs  a  still  greater  and  more 
atrocious  nuisance.  No  rowdy,  or  gentleman  at  large,  in 
the  Quaker  City,  feels  finished,  without  a  lean,  lank,  hollow 
dog  trotting  along  at  their  heels ;  while  the  butchers  and 
horse-dealers  revel  in  a  profusion  of  mastiffs  and  dastardly 
curs,  perfectly  astounding — to  us.  This  brings  us  to  a 
short  and  rather  pithy  story  of  a  dog  sell. 

Some  years  ago,  a  knot  of  men  about  town,  gentlemen 
highly  "posted  up"  on  dogs,  and  who  could  talk  hosst and  dog 
equal  to  a  Lord  Bentick,  or  Hiram  Woodruff,  or  "Acorn," 
or  Col.  Bill  Porter,  of  the  "  Spirit,"  were  congregated  in  a 
famous  resort,  a  place  known  as  Hollahan's.  A  dog-fight 
that  afternoon,  under  the  "  Linden  trees,"  in  front  of  the 
"  State  House,"  gave  rise  to  a  spirited  debate  upon  the 
(362) 


BEN.  M'CONACIIY'S  GREAT  DOG  SELL.         363 

result  of  the  battle,  and  the  respective  merits  of  the  two 
dogs.  Words  waxed  warm,  and  the  disputants  grew  bois 
terously  eloquent  upon  dogs  of  high  and  low  degree, — dogs 
they  had  read  of,  and  dogs  they  had  seen  ;  and,  in  fact,  we 
much  doubt,  if  ever  before  or  since — this  side  of  "  Seven 
Dials"  or  St.  Giles',  there  was  a  more  thorough  and  ani 
mated  discussion,  on  dogs,  witnessed. 

An  old  and  rusty  codger,  one  whose  outward  bruises 
might  have  led  a  disciple  of  Paley  to  imagine  they  had 
caused  a  secret  enjoyment  within,  sat  back  in  the  nearest 
corner,  towards  the  stove,  a  most  attentive  auditor  to  the 
thrilling  debate.  Between  his  outspread  feet,  a  dog  was 
coiled  up,  the  only  indifferent  individual  present,  apparently 
unconcerned  upon  the  subject. 

"Look  here,"  says  the  old  codger,  tossing  one  leg  over 
t'other,  and  taking  an  easy  and  convenient  attitude  of  ob 
servation  ;  "  look  here,  boys,  you're  talkin'  about  dogs  /" 

"  Dogs  ?"  says  one  of  the  most  prominent  speakers. 

"  Dogs,"  echoes  the  old  one. 

"Why,  yes,  daddy,  we  are  talking  about  dogs." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  dogs  ?"  says  a  full-blown 
Jakey,  looking  sharply  at  the  old  fellow. 

"Know  about  dogs?" 

"A'  yes-s,"  says  Jakey.  "  I  bet  dis  five  dollars,  ole  fel 
ler,  you  don't  know  a  Spaniel  from  a  butcher's  cur!" 

"  Well,"  responds  the  old  one,  transposing  his  legs,  "  may 
be  I  don't,  but  it's  my  'pinion  you'd  make  a  sorry  fiste  at 
best,  if  you  had  tail  and  ears  a  little  longer  !" 

This  sally  amused  all  but  the  young  gentleman  who  "run 
wid  de  machine,"  and  attracted  general  ^attention  towards 
the  old  man,  in  whose  eyes  and  wrinkles  lurked  a  goodly 
share  of  mother  wit  and  shrewdness.  Jakey  backing 
down,  another  of  the  by-standers  put  in. 

"  Poppy,  I  expect  you  know  what  a  good  dog  is  ?" 


364  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  I  reckon,  boys,  I  orter.  But  I'm  plaguy  dry  listening 
to  your  dog  talk — confounded  dry  !" 

"What'll  you  drink,  daddy?"  said  half  a  dozen  of  the 
dog  fanciers,  thinking  to  wet  the  old  man's  whistle  to  get 
some  fun  out  of  him.  "What'll  you  drink? — come  up, 
daddy." 

"  Sperrets,  boys,  good  old  sperrets,"  and  the  old  codger 
drank  ;  then  giving  his  lips  a  wipe  with  the  back  of  his 
hand,  and  drawing  out  a  long,  deep  "  ah-h-h-h  !"  he  again 
took  his  seat,  observing,  as  he  partially  aroused  his  ugly 
and  cross-grained  mongrel — 

"  Here's  a  dog,  boys." 

"  That  you're  dog,  dad  ?"  asked  several. 

"  That's  my  dog,  boys.     He  is  a  dog." 

"Ain't  he,  tho'  ?"  jocularly  responded  the  dog  men. 

"  What  breed,  daddy,  do  you  call  that  dog  of  yours  ?" 
asked  one. 

"  Breed  ?  He  ain't  any  breed,  he  ain't.  Stand  up,  Bar 
ney,  (jerking  up  the  sneaking-looking  thing.)  He's  no 
breed,  boys  ;  look  at  him — see  his  tushes  ;  growl,  Barney, 
growl ! — Ain't  them  tushes,  boys  ?  He's  no  breed,  boys  ; 
he's  original  stock  /" 

"  Well,  so  I  was  going  to  say,"  says  one. 

"  That  dog,"  says  another,  "must  be  valuable." 

"  Waluable  ?"  re-echoes  the  old  man;  "he  is  all  that, 
boys  ;  I  wouldn't  sell  him ;  but,  boys,  I'm  dry,  dry  as  a 
powder  horn — so  much  talkin'  makes  one  dry." 

"  Well,  come  up,  poppy  ;  what'll  you  take  ?"  said  the 
boys. 

"  Sperrets,  boys ;  good  old  sperrets.  I  do  like  good 
sperrets,  boys,  and  that  sperrets,  Mister  (to  the  ruffled- 
bosomed  bar-keeper),  o'  your'n  is  like  my  dog — can't  be 
beat  /" 

"Well,  daddy,"  continued  the  dog  men,  "where'd  you 
get  your  dog  ?" 


BEN.  M'CONACIIY  s  GREAT  DOG  SELL.         365 

"That  dog,"  said  the  old  fellow,  again  giving  his  mouth 
a  back-hander,  and  his  "  ah-h-h  !"  accompaniment ;  "well, 
I'll  tell  yon,  boys,  all  about  it." 

"  Do,  poppy,  that's  right ;  now,  tell  us  all  about  it," 
they  cried. 

"Well,  boys,  'd  any  you  know  Ben.  McConachy,  out  here 
at  the  Risin'  San  Tavern  ?" 

"We've  heard  of  him,  daddy — go  on,"  says  they. 

"  Well,  I  worked  for  Ben.  MeConachy,  one  winter ;  he 
was  a  pizen  mean  man,  but  his  wife — wasn't  she  mean  ? 
Why,  boys,  she'd  spread  all  the  bread  with  butter  afore  we 
sat  down  to  breakfast ;  she'd  begin  with  a  quarter  pound 
of  butter,  and  when  she'd  got  through,  she  had  twice  as 
much  left." 

"But  how  about  the  dog,  daddy?  Come,  tell  us  about 
your  dog." 

"  Well,  yes,  I'll  tell  you,  boys.  You  see,  Ben.  McCona 
chy  owned  this  dog  ;  set  up,  Barney — look  at  his  ears, 
boys — great,  ain't  they  ?  Well,  Ben's  wife  was  mean — 
meaner  than  pizen.  She  hated  this  dog ;  she  hated  any 
thing  that  et ;  she  considered  any  body,  except  her  and  her 
daughter  (a  pizen  ugly  gal),  that  et  three  pieces  of  bread 
and  two  cups  of  coffee  at  a  meal,  awful  /" 

"  Blow  the  old  woman  ;  tell  us  about  the  dog,  poppy," 
said  they. 

"  Now,  I'm  coming  to  the  pint — but,  Lord  !  boys,  I  never 
was  so  dry  in  my  life.  I  am  dry — plaguy  dry,"  said  the 
old  one. 

"Well,  daddy,  step  up  and  take  something;  come," 
said  the  dog  men;  "  now  let  her  slide.  How  about  the 


"  Ah-h-h-h  !  that's  great  sperrets,  boys.  Mister  (to  the 
bar-keeper),  I  don't  find  such  sperrets  as  that  often.  Well, 
boys,  as  you're  anxious  to  hear  about  the  dog,  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  him.  You  see,  the  old  woman  and  Ben.  was  allers 


oi  Jo  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

spatten  'bout  one  thing  or  t'other,  and  'specially  about  this 
dog.  So  one  day  Ben.  McConachy  hears  a  feller  wanted  to 
buy  a  good  dog,  down  to  the  drove  yard,  and  he  takes 
Barney — stand  up,  Barney — see  that,  boys  ;  how  quick  he 
minds  !  Great  dog,  he  is.  Well,  Ben.  takes  Barney,  and 
down  he  goes  to  the  drove  yard.  He  met  the  feller  ;  the 
feller  looked  at  the  dog ;  he  saw  Barney  was  a  dog — he 
looked  at  him,  asked  how  old  he  was  ;  if  that  was  all  the 
dog  Ben.  owned,  and  he  seemed  to  like  the  dog — but,  boys, 
I'm  gittin'  dry — rotted  dry — " 

"  Go  on,  tell  us  all  about  the  dog,  then  we'll  drink,"  says 
the  boys. 

11 '  Well,'  says  Ben,  McConachy  to  the  feller,  'now,  make 
us  an  offer  for  him.'  Now,  what  do  you  suppose,  boys,  that 
feller's  first  offer  was  ?" 

The  boys  couldn't  guess  it ;  they  guessed  and  guessed ; 
some  one  price,  some  another,  all  the  way  from  five  to  fifty 
dollars— the  old  fellow  continuing  to  say  "No,"  until  they 
gave  it  up. 

"Well,  boys,  I'll  tell  you— that  feller,  after  looking  and 
looking  at  Ben.  McConachy 's  dog,  tail  to  snout,  half  an 
hour — didn't  offer  a  red  cent  for  him  !  Ben.  come  home  in 
disgust  and  give  the  dog  to  me — there  he  is.  Now,  boys, 
we'll  have  that  sperrets." 

But  on  looking,  around,  the  boys  had  cut  the  pit — miz 
zled! 


Cfce  f  crils  of 


MONEY  is  admitted  to  be—  there  is  no  earthly  use  of 
dodging  the  fact—  the  lever  of  the  whole  world,  by 
which  it  and  its  multifarious  cargo  of  men  and  matters,  moun 
tains  and  mole  hills,  wit,  wisdom,  weal,  woe,  warfare  and 
women,  are  kept  in  motion,  in  season  and  out  of  season.  It 
is  the  arbiter  of  our  fates,  our  health,  happiness,  life  and  death. 
Where  it  makes  one  man  a  happy  Christian,  it  makes  ten 
thousand  miserable  devils.  It  is  no  use  to  argufy  the  mat 
ter,  for  money  is  the  "root  of  all  evil,"  more  or  less,  and  — 
as  Patricus  Hibernicus  is  supposed  to  have  said  of  a  single 
feather  he  reposed  on  —  if  a  dollar  gives  some  men  so  much 
uneasiness,  what  must  a  million  do  ?  Money  has  formed 
the  basis  of  many  a  long  and  short  story,  and  we  only  wish 
that  they  were  all  imbued,  as  our  present  story  is,  with  — 
more  irresistible  mirth  than  misery.  Lend  us  your  ears. 

Not  long  ago,  one  of  our  present  well-known  —  or  ought 
to  be,  for  he  is  a  man  of  parts  —  business  men  of  Boston, 
resided  and  carried  on  a  small  "  trade  and  dicker"  in  the 
city  of  Portland.  By  frugal  care  and  small  profits,  he  had 
managed  to  save  up  some  six  hundred  dollars,  all  in  halves, 
finding  himself  in  possession  of  this  vast  sum  of  hard  cash, 
he  began  to  conceive  a  rather  insignificant  notion  of  small 
cities;  and  he  concluded  that  Portland  was  hardly  big 
enough  for  a  man  of  his  pecuniary  heft  !  In  short,  he  began 
to  feel  the  importance  of  his  position  in  the  world  of  finance, 
and  conceived  the  idea  that  it  would  be  a  sheer  waste  of 
time  and  energy  to  stay  in  Portland,  while  with  his  capital, 
he  could  go  to  Boston,  and  spread  himself  among  the  mil 
lionaires  and  hundred  thousand  dollar  men  ! 

(367) 


368  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Yes,"  said  B ,  "  I'll  go  to  Boston  ;  I'd  be  a  fool  to 

stay  here  any  longer;  I'll  1  ave  for  bigger  timber.  But 
what  will  I  do  with  my  money  ?  How  will  I  invest  it  ? 
Hadn't  I  better  go  and  take  a  look  around,  before  I  con 
clude  to  move  ?  My  wife  don't  know  I've  got  this  money," 
he  continued,  as  he  mused  over  matters  one  evening,  in  his 
sanctum ;  "  I'll  not  tell  her  of  it  yet,  but  say  I'm  just  going 
to  Boston  to  see  how  business  is  there  in  my  line;  and  my 
money  I'll  put  in  an  old  cigar  box,  and — "  *  *  * 

B was  all  ready  with  his  valise  and  umbrella  in  his 

hand.  His  "good-bye"  and  all  that,  to  his  wife,  was 
uttered,  and  for  the  tenth  time  he  charged  his  better  half 
to  be  careful  of  the  fire,  (he  occupied  a  frame  house,)  see 
that  the  doors  were  all  locked  at  night,  and  "be  sure  and 
fasten  the  cellar  doors." 

B had  got  out  on  to  the  pavement,  with  no  time  to 

spare  to  reach  the  cars  in  season  ;  yet  he  halted — ran  back 
— opened  the  door,  and  in  evident  concern,  bawled  out  to 
his  wife — 

"  Caddie  !" 

"Well?"  she  answered. 

"  Be  sure  to  fasten  the  alley  gate  !" 

"  Ye-e-e-e-s  !"  responded  the  wife,  from  the  interior  of 
the  house. 

"  And  whatever  you  do,  don't  forget  them  cellar  doors, 
Caddie!" 

"Ye-e-e-e-s!"  she  repeated,  and  away  went  B , 

lickety  split,  for  the  Boston  train. 

After  a  general  and  miscellaneous  survey  of  modern 

Athens,  B found  an  opening — a  good  one — to  go  into 

business,  as  he  desired,  upon  a  liberal  scale ;  but  he  found 
vent  for  the  explosion  of  one  very  hallucinating  idea — his 
six  hundred  dollars,  as  a  cash  capital,  was  a  most  infinites 
imal  circumstance,  a  mere  "flea  bite  ;"  would  do  very  well 
for  an  amateur  in  the  cake  and  candy,  pea-nut  or  vegetable 


THE    PERILS    OF   WEALTH.  369 

business,  but  was  hardly  sufficient  to  create  a  sensation 
among  the  monied  folks  of  Milk  street,  or  "  bulls"  and 
"bears"  on  'change.  However,  this  realization  was  more 
than  counter-balanced  by  another  fact — "confidence"  was  a 
largely  developed  lump  on  the  business  head  of  Boston, 
and  if  a  man  merely  lacked  "means,"  yet  possessed  an 
abundance  of  good  business  qualifications — spirit,  energy, 
talent  and  tact — they  were  bound  to  see  him  through  I  In 

short,  B ,  the   great  Portland  capitalist,  found  things 

about  right,  and  in  good  time,  and  in  the  best  of  spirits, 
started  for  home,  determining,  in  his  own  mind,  to  give  his 
wife  a  most  pleasant  surprise,  in  apprizing  her  of  the  fact 
that  she  was  not  only  the  wife  of  a  man  with  six  hundred 
silver  dollars,  and  about  to  move  his  institution — but  the 
better  half  of  a  gentleman  on  the  verge  of  a  new  campaign 
as  a  Boston  business  man. 

"Lord!  how  Caroline's  eyes  will  snap!"  said  B ; 

"  how  she'll  go  in ;  for  she's  had  a  great  desire  to  live  in 
Boston  these  five  years,  but  thinks  I'm  in  debt,  and  don't 
begin  to  believe  I've  got  them  six  hundred  all  hid  away 
down .  But  I'll  surprise  her  !" 

B had  hardly  turned  his  corner  and  got  sight  of  his 

house,  with  his  mind  fairly  sizzling  with  the  pent-up  joyful 
tidings  and  grand  surprise  in  store  for  Mrs.  B.,  when  a 
sudden  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  his  dream !  As  he 
gazed  over  the  fence,  by  the  now  dim  twilight  of  fading 
day,  he  thought — yes,  he  did  see  fresh  eartl^  loose  stones, 
barrels  of  lime,  mortar,  and  an  ominous  display  of  other 
building  and  repairing  materials,  strewn  in  the  rear  of  his 
domicil !  The  cellar  doors — those  wings  of  the  subterranean 
recesses  of  his  house — which  he  had  cautioned,  earnestly 
cautioned,  the  "wife  of  his  .bussim"  to  close,  carefully  and 
securely,  were  sprawling  open,  and  indeed,  the  outside  of 
his  abode  looked  quite  dreary  and  haunted. 

"My  dear  Caroline  !"  exclaimed  B ,  rushing  into  the 

23 


370  HUMORS    OE    FALCONBRIDGE. 

rear  door  of  his  domestic  establishment,  to  the  no  small 
surprise  of  Mrs.  B.,  who  gave  a  premature — 

"  Oh  dear  !  how  you  frightened  me,  Fred  !     Got  home  ?" 

"  Home  ?  yes  !  don't  you  see  I  have.  But,  Carrie,  didn't 
I  earnestly  beg  of  you  to  keep  those  doors — cellar  doors — 
shut  ?  fastened  ?" 

"  Why,  how  you  talk  !  Bless  me !  Keep  the  cellar  shut  ? 
Why,  there's  nothing  in  the  cellar." 

"Nothing  in  the  cellar?"  fairly  howls  B . 

"Nothing?  Of  course  there  is  not,"  quietly  responded 
the  wife  ;  "  there  is  nothing  in  the  cellar ;  day  before  yester 
day,  our  drain  and  Mrs.  A.'s  drain  got  choked  up;  she 
went  to  the  landlord  about  it ;  he  sent  some  men,  they  ex 
amined  the  drain,  and  came  back  to-day  with  their  tools 
and  things,  and  went  down  the  cellar." 

"  Down  the  cellar  ?"  gasped  B ,  quite  tragically. 

"  Down  the  cellar !"  slowly  repeated  Mrs.  B. 

"  Give  me  a  light — quick,  give  me  a  light,  Caroline  !" 

"Why,  don't  be  a  fool.  I  brought  up  all  the  things,  the 
potatoes,  the  meat,  the  squashes." 

"  F-o-o-h !  blow  the  meat  and  squashes  !  Give  me  a 

light!"  and  with  a  genuine  melo-drama  rush,  B seized 

the  lamp  from  his  wife's  hand,  and  down  the  cellar  stairs  he 
went,  four  steps  at  a  lick.  In  a  moment  was  heard — 

"  O-o-o-h  !  I'm  ruined  !" 

With  a  full-fledged  scream,  Mrs.  B.  dashed  pell-mell  down 
the  stairs,  to  her  husband.  He  had  dropped  the  lamp — all 
was  dark  as  a  coal  mine. 

"  Fred — Frederick  !  oh  !  where  are  you  ?  What  have  you 
done  ?"  cried  his  wife,  in  intense  agony  and  doubt. 

"Done?  Oh!  I'm  done!  yes,  done  now!"  he  heavily 
sighed. 

"  Done  what  ?  how  ?     Tell  me,  Fred,  are  you  hurt  ?" 

"  What  on  airth's  the  matter,  tlmr  ?  Are  you  committing 
murder  on  one  another  ?"  carne  a  voice  from  above  stairs. 


THE    PERILS    OF   WEALTH.  371 

"Is  that  you,  Mrs.  A.?"  asked  Mrs.  B.  to  the  last 
speaker. 

"Yes,  my  dear;  here's  a  dozen  neighbors;  don't  get 
skeert.  Is  thare  robbers  in  yer  house  ?  What  on  airth  is 
going  on  ?" 

This  brought  B to  his  proper  reckoning.  He 

ordered  his  wife  to  "  go  up,"  and  he  followed,  and  upon 
reaching  the  room,  he  found  quite  a  gathering  of  the  neigh 
bors.  He  was  as  white  as  a  white-washed  wall,  and  the 
neighbors  staring  at  him  as  though  he  was  a  wild  Indian,  or 
a  chained  mad  dog.  Importuned  from  all  sides  to  unravel 

the  mystery,  B informed  them  that  he  had  merely  gone 

down  cellar  to  see  what  the  masons,  &c.,  had  been  doing — 
dropped  his  lamp — his  wife  screamed — and  that  was  all 
about  it !  The  wife  said  nothing,  and  the  neighbors  shook 
their  incredulous  heads,  and  went  home  ;  which,  no  sooner 

had  they  gone,  than  B seized  his  ha,t  and  cut  stick  for 

the  office  of  a  cunning,  far-seeing  limb  of  the  law,  leaving 
Mrs.  B.  in  a  state  of  mental  agitation  better  imagined  than 
described.  B stated  his  case — he  had  buried  six  hun 
dred  dollars  in  a  box  under  the  lee  of  the  cellar-wall,  and 
gone  to  Boston  on  business,  and  as  if  no  other  time  would 
suit,  a  parcel  of  drain-cleaners,  and  masons,  and  laborers, 
must  come  and  go  right  there  and  then  to  dig — get  the  six 
hundred  dollars  and  clear. 

After  a  long  chase,  law  and  bother,  B recovered  half 

his  money — packed  up  and  came  to  Boston. — There's  a 
case  for  you !  Beware  of  money  ! 


a  f  egatg. 


WAITING  for  dead  men's  shoes  is  a  slow  and  not 
very  sure  business ;  sometimes  it  pays  and  some 
times  it  don't.     I  know  a  genius  who   lost  by  it,  and  his 
case  will  bear  repeating,  for  there  is  both  morality  and  fun 
in  it. 

Lev  Smith,  a  native  of  "the  Eastern  shore"  of  Mary 
land,  and  a  resident  of  a  small  town  in  the  lower  part  of 
Delaware,  began  life  on  a  very  limited  capital,  and  because 
of  a  natural  disposition  indigenous  to  the  climate  and  cus 
toms  of  his  native  place — general  apathy  and  unmitigated 
patience  peculiar  to  people  raised  on  fish  and  Johnny-cake, 
amid  the  stunted  pine  swamps  and  sand-hills  of  that  Lord- 
forsaken  country — Lev  never  increased  it.  Lev  had  an 
uncle,  an  old  bachelor,  without  "  chick  or  child,"  and  was 
reported  to  be  pretty  well  off.  Old  man  Gunter  was  pro 
verbially  mean,  and  as  usual,  heartily  despised  by  one  half 
of  the  people  who  knew  him.  He  had  a  small  estate,  had 
lived  long,  and  by  his  close-fisted  manner  of  life,  it  was  be 
lieved  that  Gunter  had  laid  by  a  pretty  considerable  pile 
of  the  root  of  all  evil,  for  something  or  somebody  ;  and 
one  day  Lev  Smith,  the  nephew,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  as  the  old  man  was  getting  quite  shaky  and  must  soon 
resign  his  interests  in  all  worldly  gear,  he  would  volunteer 
to  console  the  declining  years  of  his  dear  old  uncle,  by  his 
own  pleasant  company  and  encouragement,  and  the  old  man 
very  gladly  accepted  the  proposals  of  Lev,  to  cut  wood, 
dig,  scratch  and  putter  around  his  worn  out  and  dilapidated 
farm.  Uncle  Gunter  had  but  two  negroes  ;  through  star 
vation  and  long  service  he  had  worn  them  about  out ;  he 
(372) 


NURSING   A   LEGACY.  373 

had  little  or  no  "stock"  upon  his  farm,  quite  as  scant  an 
assortment  of  utensils,  few  fences,  and  in  fact,  to  any  ac 
tively  disposed  individual,  the  general  appearance  and  state 
of  affairs  about  old  Gunter's  place  would  have  given  the 
double-breasted  blues.  But  Lev  Smith  had  come  to  loaf 
and  lounge,  and  not  to  display  any  very  active  or  patriotic 
evolutions,  so  he  was  not  so  much  disheartened  by  his  uncle's 
dilapidated  farm,  as  he  was  annoyed  by  the  beggarly  way 
the  old  man  lived,  and  the  assiduous  desire  he  seemed  to 
manifest  for  Lev  to  be  stirring  around,  gathering  chips, 
patching  fences,  cutting  brush  ;  from  morn  till  night,  he 
and  the  two  superannuated  cuffies ;  and  the  old  man  barely 
raising  enough  to  keep  soul  and  body  of  the  party  to 
gether. 

At  first,  the  job  he  had  undertaken  proved  almost  too 
much  for  Lev  Smith's  constitution,  but  the  great  object  in 
view  consoled  him,  and  the  more  he  saw  of  the  old  man's 
meanness,  the  more  and  more  he  took  it  for  granted  that  his 
uncle  had  necessarily  hoarded  up  treasure ;  but,  after  three 
years'  drudgery,  Lev's  courage  was  on  the  point  of  break-, 
ing  down  ;  the  only  stay  left  seemed  the  fact  that  now  he  had 
served  so  long  a  time,  so  patiently  and  lovingly,  and  the 
old  man  apparently  upon  his  very  last  legs — it  seemed  a 
ruthless  waste  of  his  golden  dreams  to  give  out,  so  he  made 
up  his  mind  to — wait  a  little  longer.  Another  year  rolled 
on ;  Uncle  Gunter  got  indeed  low,  and  the  lower  he  got 
the  more  assiduous  got  nephew  Smith,  and  even  the  neigh 
bors  wondered  how  a  young  man  could  stick  on,  and  put  up 
with  such  a  miserly,  mean,  selfish  and  penurious  old  cur 
mudgeon  as  old  Joe  Gunter.  Gunter  himself  was  apprized 
of  the  great  indulgence  and  wonderful  patience  of  his  ne 
phew,  and  not  unfrequently  said,  in  a  groaning  voice  : 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Levi,  you're  a  good  boy ;  I  wish  to  the 
Lord  it  was  in  your  poor,  miserable,  wretched  old  uncle's 
distressed  power  to — " 


374  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind,  Uncle  Joe,"  Lev  would  most 
deceitfully  respond  ;  "  I  ask  nothing  for  myself ;  what  I  do, 
I  do  willingly  !" 

"  I  know,  I  know  you  do,  poor  boy,  but  your  poor,  old, 
miserable,  wretched  uncle  don't  deserve  it." 

"  Don't  mind  that,  dear  uncle,"  says  Lev.  "  It's  my  duty, 
and  I'll  do  it." 

"  Good  boy,  good  boy ;  your  poor,  old,  miserable  uncle 
will  be  grateful — we'll  see." 

"  I  know  that — I  feel  sure  he  will,  dear  Uncle  Joe — and 
that's  enough,  all  I  ask." 

"  And  if  he  don't — poor,  miserable  old  creature, — if  he 
don't  pay  you,  the  Lord  will,  Levi  !" 

"  And  that  will  be  all  that's  needed,  Uncle  Joe,"  says 
the  humbugging  nephew.  And  so  they  went,  Lev  not  only 
waiting  on  the  old  man  with  the  tender  and  faithful  care  of 
a  good  Samaritan,  but  out  of  his  own  slender  resources 
ministering  to  the  old  man's  especial  comfort  in  many  ways 
and  matters  which  Uncle  Joe  would  have  seen  him  hanged 
and  quartered  before  he  would  in  alike  manner  done  likewise. 
But  the  end  came — the  old  fellow  held  on  toughly  ;  he  never 
died  until  Lev's  patience,  hope  and  slender  income  were 
quite  threadbare ;  so  he  at  last  went  off  the  handle — Lev 
buried  him  and  mourned  the  dispensation  in  true  Kilkenny 
fashion. 

Lev  Smith  now  awaited  the  settlement  of  Uncle  Gunter's 
affairs  in  grief  and  solicitude.  Another  party  also  awaited 
the  upshot  of  the  matter,  with  due  solemnity  and  expecta 
tion,  and  that  party  was  Polly  Williams,  Lev's  "  intended," 
and  her  poor  and  miserly  dad  and  inarm,  who  knew  Lev 
Smith,  as  they  said,  was  a  lazy,  lolloping  sort  of  a  feller, 
but  sure  to  get  all  that  his  poor,  miserable  uncle  was  worth 
in  the  world,  and  therefore,  with  more  craft  and  diligence, 
if  possible,  than  Lev  practised,  the  Williamses  set  Polly's 
cap  for  Lev,  and  who,  in  turn,  was  not  unmindful  of  the 


NURSING   A   LEGACY.  375 

fact  that  Williams  "  had  something"  too,  as  well  as  his  two 
children,  Polly  and  Peter.  Things  seemed  indeed  bright 
and  propitious  on  all  sides.  The  day  came ;  Lev  was  on 
hand  at  Squire  Cornelius's,  to  hear  the  will  read,  and  the 
estate  of  the  deceased  settled. 

As  usual  in  such  cases  in  the  country,  quite  a  number  of 
the  neighbors  were  on  hand — old  Williams,  of  course. 

"He  was  a  queer  old  mortal,"  began  the  Squire. 

"  But  a  good  man,"  sobbed  Lev  Smith,  drawing  out  his 
bandanna,  and  smothering  his  sharp  nose  in  it.  "  A  good 
man,  'Squire." 

"  God's  his  judge,"  responded  the  Squire,  and  a  number 
of  the  neighbors  shook  their  head  and  stroked  their  beards, 
as  if  to  say  amen. 

"  Joseph  Gunter  mout  have  been  a  good  man  and  he 
mout  not,"  continued  the  Squire;  "some  thinks  he  was 
not ;  I  only  say  he  was  a  queer  old  mortal,  and  here's  his 
will.  Last  will  and  testament  of  Joseph  Gunter,  &c., 
&c.,"  continued  the  Squire. 

"  Poor,  dear  old  man,"  sobbed  Lev.  "  Poor  dear  old 
man !" 

"  Being  without  wife  or  children,"  continued  the  'Squire. 

"  0,  dear  !  poor,  dear  old  man,  how  /shall  miss  him  in 
this  world  of  sorrow  and  sin,"  sobs  Lev,  while  old  Williams 
bit  his  skinny  lips,  and  the  neighbors  again  stroked  their 
beards. 

"  To  comfort  my  declining  years — " 

"  Poor,  dear  old  man,  he  was  to  be  pitied  ;  I  did  all  I 
could  do,"  groaned  the  disconsolate  Lev,  "  but  I  didn't  do 
half  enough." 

"  Passing  coldly  and  cheerless  through  the  world — " 
continued  the  'Squire. 

"  Yes,  he  did,  poor  old  man  ;  0,  dear  !"  says  Lev. 

"  Cared  for  by  none,  hated  and  shunned  by  all  (Lev 
looked  vacantly  over  his  handkerchief,  at  the  Squire),  I 


376  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

have  made  up  my  mind  (Lev  all  attention)  that  no  mortal 
shall  benefit  by  me ;  I  have  therefore  mortaged  and  sold 
(Lev's  eyes  spreading)  everything  I  had  of  a  dollar's 
value  in  the  world,  and  buried  the  money  in  the  earth  where 
none  bat  the  devil  himself  can  find  it!" 

There  was  a  general  snicker  and  stare — all  eyes  on  Lev, 
his  face  as  blank  as  a  sham  cartridge,  while  old  Williams's 
countenance  fell  into  a  concatenation  of  grimaces  and 
wrinkles — language  fails  to  describe ! 

"  But  here's  a  codicil,"  says  the  'Squire,  re-adjusting  his 
glasses.  "  Knowing  my  nephew,  Levi  Smith,  expects 
something  (Lev  brightens  up,  old  Williams  grins  !) — he 
has  hung  around  me  for  a  long  time,  expecting  it  (Lev's 
jaw  falls),  I  do  hereby  freely  forgive  him  his  six  years 
boarding  and  lodging,  and,  furthermore,  make  him  a  pre 
sent  of  my  two  old  negroes,  Ben  and  Dinah." 

"  The — the — the — cussed  old  screw,"  bawls  old  Williams. 
"The  infernal,  double  and  twisted,  mean,  contemptible, 
miserable  old  scoundrel !"  cries  poor  Lev,  foaming  with 
virtuous  indignation,  and  swinging  his  doubled  up  fists. 

11  And  you — you — you  cussed,  do-less,  good  for  nothing, 
hypocritical  skunk,  you,"  yells  old  Williams,  shaking  his 
bony  fingers  in  poor  Lev's  face,  the  neighbors  grinning 
from  ear  to  earx  "  to  humbug  me,  my  wife,  my  Polly,  in  this 
yer  way.  Now  clear  yourself — take  them  old  niggers,  don't 
leave  'em  here  for  the  crows  to  eat — clear  yourself!" 

Lev  Smith  sneaks  off  like  a  kill-sheep  dog,  leaving  old 
Ben  and  Dinah  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  quite  miserable 
and  equally  wretched  neighborhood.  Polly  Williams  didn't 
"  take  on"  much  about  the  matter,  but  in  the  course  of  a 
few  weeks  took  another  venture  in  love's  lottery,  and — was 
married.  Poor  Lev  Smith  returned  to  the  scenes  of  his 
childhood,  a  wiser  and  a  poorer  man. 


f  jje  CnmWts  of  a 


ME.  FLASH  in  ?" 
"  Mr.  Flash  ?  Don't  know  any  such  person,  my  son." 

"Why,  he  lives  here  !"  continued  the  boy. 

"  Guess  not,  my  son  ;  I  live  here." 

"  Well,  this  is  the  house,  for  I  brought  the  things  here." 

"What  things  ?"  says  our  friend,  Flannigan. 

"  Why,  the  door  mat,  the  brooms,  buckets  and  brushes," 
says  little  breeches. 

Flannigan  looks  vacantly  at  his  own  door  mat,  for  a  min 
ute,  then  says  he  — 

"  Come  in  my  man,  I'll  see  if  any  such  articles  have  come 
here,  for  us." 

The  boy  walks  into  the  hall,  amid  the  barricades  of  yet 
unplaced  household  effects  —  for  Flannigan  had  just  moved 
in  —  and  Flannigan  calls  for  Mrs.  F.  The  lady  appears  and 
denies  all  knowledge  of  any  such  purchases,  or  reception 
of  buckets,  brooms,  and  little  breeches  clears  out. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour,  a  violent  jerk  at  the  bell  an 
nounces  another  customer.  Flannigan  being  at  work  in 
the  parlor,  answers  the  call  ;  he  opens  the  door,  and  there 
stands  "a  greasy  citizen." 

"  Goo'  mornin'.     Mr.  Flash  in  ?" 

"  Mr.  Flash  ?     I  don't  know  him,  sir." 

"You  don't?"  says  the  "greasy  citizen."  "He  lives 
here,  got  this  bill  agin  him,  thirty-four  dollars,  ten  cents, 
per-visions." 

"  I  live  here,  sir  ;  my  name's  Flannigan,  I  don't  know 
you,  or  owe  you,  of  course  !" 

"  Well,  that's  a  pooty  spot  o>  work,  any  hoio  ;"  growls 


378  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

our    greasy   citizen,    crumpling   up   his    bill.      "Where's 
Flash?" 

"  I  can't  possibly  say,"  says  Flannigan. 

"You  can't?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"  Don't  know  where  he's  gone  to  ?"  growls  the  butcher. 

"  No  more  than  the  man  in  the  moon  !" 

"  Well,  he  ain't  goin'  to  dodge  me,  in  no  sich  a  way," 
says  the  butcher.  "I'll  find  him,  if  it  costs  me  a  bullock, 
you  may  tell  him  so  ! — for  me  /"  growls  the  butcher. 

"  Tell  him  yourself,  sir ;  I've  nothing  to  do  with  the  fel 
low,  don't  know  him  from  Adam,  as  I've  already  told  you," 
says  Flannigan,  closing  the  door — the  "greasy  citizen" 
walking  down  the  steps  muttering  thoughts  that  breathe  and 
words  that  burn  ! 

Flannigan  had  just  elevated  himself  upon  the  top  of  the 
centre  table,  to  hangup  Mrs.  F.'s  portrait  upon  the  parlor 
wall,  when  another  ring  was  heard  of  the  bell.  He  called 
to  his  little  daughter  to  open  the  door  and  see  what  was 
wanted. 

"  Is  your  fadcler  in,  ah?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'll  call  him,"  says  the  child,  but  before  she 
could  reach  the  parlor,  a  burly  Dutch  baker  marches  in. 

"Goot  mornin',  I  bro't  de  pills  in." 

"Pills?"  says  Flannigan. 

"  Yaw,  for  de  prets,"  continues  the  baker  ;  "  nine  tollars 
foof'cy  cents.  I  vos  heert  you  was  movin',  so  I  tink  maybees 
you  was  run  away." 

"  Mistake,  sir,  I  don't  owe  you  a  cent ;  never  bought 
bread  of  you  !" 

"  Vaw's  !  Tonner  a'  blitzen  ! — don't  owes  me  !" 

"Not  a  cent!"  says  Flannigan,  standing — hammer  in 
hand,  upon  the  top  of  the  table. 

"  Vaitfs  !  you  goin'  thrun  away  and  sheet  me,  ah?" 
Look  here,  my  friend,  you  are  under  a  mistake.     I've 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  A  MOVER.         379 

just  moved  in  here,  my  name's  Flannigan,  you  never  saw 
me  before,  and  of  course  I  never  dealt  with  you ! — don't 
you  see  ?" 

"  Tonner  a'  blitzen !"  cries  the  enraged  baker,  "  I  see  vat 
you  vant,  to  sheet  me  out  mine  preet,  you  raskills — I  go 
fetch  the  con-stabl's,  de  shudge,  de  sher'ffs,  and  I  have 
mine  mon-ney  in  mine  hands  !"  and  off  rushes  the  enraged 
man  of  dough,  upsetting  the  various  small  articles  piled  up 
on  the  bureau  in  the  hall — by  wanging  to  the  door. 

Poor  Flannigan  felt  quite  "put  out ;"  he  came  very  near 
dashing  his  hammer  at  the  Dutchman's  head,  but  hoping 
there  was  an  end  to  the  annoyances  he  kept  at  work,  until 
another  ring  of  the  bell  announced  another  call.  The  Irish 
girl  went  to  the  door ;  Flannigan  listens — 

"  Mr.  Flash  in  ?" 

11  Yees  !"  says  Biddy,  supposing  Flash  and  Flannigan 
was  the  same  in  Dutch.  "  Would  yees  come  in,  sir,"  and 
in  comes  the  young  man. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  quoth  he  ;  "  I've  called  as  you  re 
quested  sir,  with  the  bill  of  that  china  set,  &c. 

"Mistake,  sir — I've  bought  no  china  set,  lately,"  says 
Flannigan. 

"  Isn't  your  name  Flash,  sir  !" 

"  No,  sir,  my  name's  Flannigan.    I've  just  moved  here." 

"  Indeed,"  says  the  clerk.  "Well,  sir,  where  has  Flash 
gone  to,  do  you  know." 

"  Gone  to  be  hanged  !  I  trust,  for  I've  been  bothered  all 
this  morning  by  persons  that  scoundrel  appears  to  owe. 
He  moved  out  of  here,  day  before  yesterday ;  I  took  his 
unexpired  term  of  the  lease  of  this  dwelling,  having  noticed 
it  advertised,  gave  the  fellow  a  bonus  for  his  lease,  and  he 
cleared  for  California,  I  believe." 

This  concise  statement  appeared  to  satisfy  the  clerk  that 
his  "firm"  was  done,  and  the  young  man  and  his  bill 
stepped  out.  Another  ring,  and  Flannigan  opens  the  door; 


380  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

two  men  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Flash ;  he  had  been  buying  some 
tin-ware  of  one,  and  the  other  he  owed  for  putting  up  a 
fire  range  in  the  building,  and  which  range  and  accoutre 
ments  poor  Flannigan  had  bought  for  twenty-five  dollars, 
cash  down  !  These  gentlemen  felt  very  vindictive,  of  course, 
and  hinted  awful  strong  that  Flannigan  was  privy  to  Flash's 
movements  ;  and  a  great  deal  more,  until  Flannigan  losing 
his  patience,  and  then  his  temper,  ordered  the  men  to  va 
mose  ! — they  did,  giving  poor  Flannigan  a  "good  blessing" 
as  they  walked  away  1 

The  family  was  about  to  sit  down  to  a  "  made-up  din 
ner"  in  the  back  parlor,  when  the  bell  rang;  the  Irish  girl 
answered  the  call,  and  returned  with  a  bill  of  sundry  gro 
ceries,  handed  in  by  a  man  at  the  door. 

"  Tell  him  Mr.  Flash  has  gone — left— don't  know  him, 
and  don't  want  to  know  him,  or  have  any  thing  to  do  with 
him  or  his  bill !" 

The  girl  carried  back  the  bill ;  presently  Flannigan  hears 
a  muss  in  the  hall,  he  gets  up  and  goes  out ;  there  was 
Biddy  and  the  grocer's  man  in  a  high  dispute.  Biddy — 
"  true  to  her  instinct,"  had  made  a  bull  of  her  message  by 
telling  the  man  her  master  didn't  know  him ;  go  to  the 
divil  wid  his  bill !  Flannigan  managed  to  pacify  the  man, 
and  give  him  to  understand  that  Mr.  Flash  was  gone  to 
parts  unknown,  and — the  grocer,  in  common  with  bakers, 
butchers,  tinners  and  china  dealers — were  done  ! 

But  now  came  the  tug  of  war;  two  "colored  ladies" 
made  their  appearance,  for  a  small  bill  of  seven  dollars, 
for  washing  and  ironing  the  dickeys  and  fine  linen  of  the 
Flashes. 

"An'  de  fac  a?7i,"  says  the  one,  "  we's  bound  to  hab  de 
money,  shuah  /" 

It  did  not  seem  to  take  when  Flannigan  informed  his 
colored  friends  that  they  were  surely  done,  as  their  debtor 
had  "  cut  his  lucky"  and  gone  ! 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  A  MOVEK.   .      381 

The  darkies  felt  inclined  to  be  sassy,  and  Flannigan 
closed  the  door,  ordering  them  to  create  a  vacancy  by 
clearing  out,  and  just  as  he  closed  the  door,  ring  goes 
the  bell ! 

"Be  gor,"  says  a  brawny  "adopted  citizen,"  planting 
his  brogan  upon  the  sill,  as  Flannigan  opened  the  door — 
"  I've  come  wid  me  coz-zin  to  git  her  wages,  ye's  owin' 
her  !» 

"  Me  ?     Owe  you  ?"  cries  poor  Flannigan. 

"  Igh  /"  says  Paddy,  trying  to  push  his  way  into  the 
hall. 

"  Stand  back,  you  scoundrel !"  cries  Flannigan. 

"  Scoun-thril  /"  roars  the  outraged  "adopted  citizen." 

"  Stand  back,  you  infernal  ruffian  !"  exclaims  Flannigan, 
as  Paddy  makes  a  rush  to  grab  him. 

"  Give  me  me  coz-zin's  wages,  ye — ye — "  but  here  his  ora 
tion  drew  towards  a  close,  for  Flannigan,  no  longer  able  to 
recognise  virtue  in  forbearance,  opened  the  door  and  plant 
ing  his  own  huge  fist  between  the  ogle-factories  of  Paddy, 
knocked  him  as  stiff  as  a  bull  beef!  Falling,  Paddy  car 
ried  away  his  red-faced  burly  coz-zin,  and  the  twain  tum 
bling  upon  the  two  negro  women  who  were  still  at  the 
bottom  of  the  steps,  dilating,  to  any  number  of  lookers-on, 
upon  the  rascality  of  poor  Flannigan  in  gouging  them  out 
of  their  washing  bill,  down  went  the  white  spirits  and 
black,  all  in  a  lump. 

Here  was  a  row  !  A  mob  gathered  ;  "the  people  in  that 
house"  were  denounced  in  all  manner  of  ways,  the  negroes 
screamed,  the  Irish  roared,  the  Dutch  baker  came  up  with 
a  police-man  to  arrest  Flannigan  for  stealing  his  bread  ! 
And  soon  the  butcher  arrived  with  another  officer  to  seize 
the  goods  of  Flash,  supposed  to  be  in  the  house — ready  to 
be  taken  away  ! 

Such  a  double  and  twisted  uproar  in  Dutch,  Irish,  Ethio 
pian  and  natural  Yankee,  was  terrific  1 


382  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

Mrs.  F.  fainted,  the  children  screamed,  and  poor  Flanni-' 
gan  was  carried  to  the  police  office  to  answer  half  a  cord 
of  "  charges,"  and  reached  home  near  sundown,  quite  ex 
hausted,  and  his  wallet  bled  for  "costs,"  fines,  &c.,  some 
$20.  Poor  Flannigan  moved  again  ;  the  house  had  such  a 
"  bad  name,"  he  couldn't  stay  in  it. 


"  DOCTOR"  Gumbo,  who  "  does  business"  somewhere 
along  shore,  met  ''Prof."  White, — a  gemman,  whose  com 
plexion  is  four  shades  darker  than  the  famed  ace  of 
spades, — a  few  evenings  since,  in  front  of  the  Blade  office, 
and  after  the  usual  formalities  of  greeting,  says  the  doctor 

"  What  you  tink,  sah,  oh  dat  Lobes  question,  what  dey's 
makin'  sich  a  debbil  ob  a  talk  about  in  de  papers  ?" 

"Well,"  dignifiedly  answered  the  professor  of  polish-on 
boots,  "  it's  my  'ticular  opinion,  sah,  dat  dat  Lopes  got 
into  de  wrong  pew,  brudder  Gumbo,  when  he  went  down  to 
Cuberfor  his  healf!" 

"  Pshaw !  sah,  I'se  talkin'  about  de  gwynna  (guano) 
question,  I  is." 

"Well,  doctor,"  said  the  professor,  "I'se  not  posted  up 
on  de  goanna  question,  no  how;  but,  when  you  comes  to 
de  Cuber,  or  de  best  mode  ob  applyin'  de  principle  ob 
liquid  blackin'  to  de  rale  fuss-rate  .calfskin,  Fse  dar!" 

"0!  oh!"  grunts  Gumbo ;  "professor,  you'se  great  on 
de  natural  principles  ob  de  chemical  skyence,  I  see ;  but 
lord  honey,  I  doos  pity  your  ignorance  on  jography  ques 
tions.  So,  take  care  ob  yourseff,  ole  nigger — yaw  !  yaw  !" 
and  they  parted  with  the  formality  of  two  Websters,  and 
half  a  dozen  common-sized  dignitaries  of  the  nation  thrown 
in. 


Iflfo  it's  3Drat  at  tk  3btor  louse. 

£>/  V t  Q  («— '  Jo-' 

PEOPLE  often  wonder  how  a  man  can  manage  to  drink 
up  His  salary  in  liquor,  provided  it  is  sufficient  to  buy 
a  gallon  of  the  very  best  ardent  every  day  in  the  year. 
How  a  fortune  can  be  drank  up,  or  drank  down,  by  the 
possessor,  is  stiil  a  greater  poser  to  the  unsophisticated. 
Now,  to  be  sure,  a  man  who  confines  himself,  in  his  pota 
tions,  to  fourpenny  drinks  of  small  beer,  Columbian  whiskey, 
or  even  that  detestable  stuff,  by  courtesy  or  custom  called 
French  "brandy, — which,  in  fact,  is  generally  aquafortis, 
corrosive  sublimate,  cochineal,  logwood,  and  whiskey, — 
and  don't  happen  to  know  too  many  drouthy  cronies,  may 
make  a  very  long  lane  of  it ;  but  it's  the  easiest  thing  in 
the  world  to  swallow  a  snug  salary,  income,  mortgages,  live 
stock,  and  real  estate,  when  you  know  how  it's  done. 

Managing  a  theatre,  publishing  a  newspaper,  or  keeping 
trained  dogs  or  trotting  horses,  don't  hardly  begin  to  phle 
botomize  purse  and  reputation,  like  drinking. 

"  Doctor,"  said  a  gay  Southern  blood,  to  a  famed  "tooth 
doctor,"  "  look  into  my  mouth." 

"I  can't  see  any  thing  there,  sir,"  says  the  tooth  puller. 

"  Can't  ?  Well,  that's  deuced  strange.  Why,  sir,  look 
again  ;  you  see  nothing  !" 

"  Nothing,  sir  !" 

"Why,  sir,"  says  the  young  planter,  "  it's  most  astonish 
ing,  for  I've  just  finished  swallowing — three  hundred  ne 
groes  and  two  cotton  plantations  /" 

Four  young  bucks  met,  some  years  ago,  in  a  fashionable 
drinking  saloon  in  Cincinnati.  It  was  one  of  the  most  ele 
gant  drinking  establishments  in  that  part  of  the  country. 

(383) 


384  HUMORS    OP    FALCONBRIDGE. 

The  young  chaps  belonged  over  in  Kentucky — daddies  rich, 
and  they  didn't  care  a  snap  !  says  they,  let's  have  a  spree  I 
The  "sham"  came  in,  and  they  went  at  it ;  giving  that  a 
fair  trial,  they  took  a  turn  at  sherry,  hock,  and  a  sample  of 
all  the  most  expensive  stuffs  the  proprietors  had  on  hand. 
Getting  fuddled,  they  got  uproarious  ;  they  kicked  over  the 
tables  and  knocked  down  the  waiters.  The  landlord,  not 
exactly  appreciating  that  sort  of  "  going  on,"  remonstrated, 
and  was  met  by  an  array  of  pistols  and  knives.  Mad  and 
furious,  the  young  chaps  made  a  general  onslaught  on  the 
people  present,  who  ".dug  out"  very  quick,  leaving  the 
bacchanalians  to  their  glory  ;  whereupon,  they  fell  to  and 
fired  their  pistols  into  the  mirrors,  paintings,  chandeliers, 
&c.  Of  course  the  watchmen  came  in,  about  the  time  the 
young  gentlemen  finished  their  youthful  indiscretions,  and 
after  the  usual  battering  aud  banging  of  the  now  almost 
inanimate  bodies  of  the  quartette,  landed  them  in  the  cala 
boose.  Next  day  they  settled  their  bills,  and  it  cost  them 
about  $2200 !  It  was  rather  an  expensive  lesson,  but  it's 
altogether  probable  that  they  haven't  forgotten  a  letter  of 
it  yet. 

A  small  party  of  country  merchants,  traders,  &c.,  were 
cruising  around  New  York,  one  evening,  seeing  the  lions, 
and  their  cicerone, — by  the  way,  a  "  native"  who  knew  what 
was  what, — took  them  up  Broadway,  and  as  they  passed 
the  Astor  House,  says  one  of  the  strangers  : 

"  Smith,  what's  this  thunderin'  big  house  ?" 

"  0,  ah,  yes,  this,"  says  the  cicerone,  Smith,  "this,  boys,  is 
a  great  tavern,  fine  place  to  get  a  drink." 

"  Well,  be  hooky,  let's  all  go  in." 

In  they  all  went ;  taking  a  private  room  or  small  side 
parlor,  the  country  gents  requested  Smith  to  do  the  talking 
and  order  in  the  liquor.  Smith  called  for  a  bill  of  fare, 
upon  which  are  "invoiced"  more  "sorts"  and  harder  named 


HOW  IT'S   DONE  AT   THE  ASTOR   HOUSE.  385 

wines  and  liquors  than  could  be  committed  to  memory  in  a 
week. 

"  That's  it,"  says  Smith,  marking  a  bill  of  fare,  and  hand 
ing  it  to  the  servant,  "  that's  it — two  bottles,  bring  'em  up." 

Up  came  the  wine ;  it  was,  of  course,  elegant.  The 
country  gents  froze  to  it.  They  had  never  tasted  such  stuff 
before,  in  all  their  born  days  ! 

"  Look  a  here,  mister,"  says  one  of  the  "business  men," 
"  got  eny  more  uv  that  wine  ?" 

"  O,  yes,  sir  !"  says  the  servant. 

"Well,  fetch  it  in." 

"Two  bottles,  sir?" 

"  Two  ganders  !  No,  bring  in  six  bottles  ! — I  can  go  two 
on  'em  myself,"  says  the  country  gent. 

The  servant  delivered  his  message  at  the  bar,  and  after 
a  few  grimaces  and  whispering,  the  servant  and  one  of  the 
bar-keepers,  or  clerks,  carried  up  the  wine.  Says  the  clerk, 
whispering  to  Smith,  whom  he  slightly  knew  : 

"  Smith,  do  you  know  the  price  of  this  wine  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  do,"  says  Smith ;  "here  it's  invoiced  on  the 
catalogue,  ain't  it  ?" 

"O,  very  well,"  says  the  clerk,  about  to  withdraw. 

"  Hold  on  !"  says  one  of  the  merry  country  gents,  "  don't 
snake  your  handsome  countenance  off  so  quick  ;  do  yer  want 
us  to  fork  rite  up  fur  these  drinks  ?"  hauling  out  his  wallet. 

"  No,  yer  don't,"  says  another,  hauling  out  his.  change. 

"  My  treat,  if  you  please,  boys,"  says  the  third,  pulling  out 
a  handful  of  small  change.  "  I  asked  the  party  in,  an'  I  pay 
for  what  licker  we  drink — be  thunder  I" 

In  the  midst  of  their  enthusiasm,  the  clerk  observed  it 
was  of  no  importance  just  then — the  bill  would  be  presented 
when  they  got  through.  This  was  satisfactory,  and  the 
party  went  on  finishing  their  wine,  smoking,  &c. 

"  S'pose  we  have  some  rale  sham-paigne,  boys  ?"  says  one 
of  the  gents,  beginning  to  feel  his  oats,  some  I 
24 


386  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDUE. 

"  Agreed !"  says  the  rest.  Two  bottles  of  the  best  "sham" 
in  "  the  tavern"  were  called  for,  and  which  the  party  drank 
with  great  gusto. 

"Now,"  says  one  of  them,  "let's  go  to  the  the-atcr,  or 
some  other  place  where  there's  a  show  goin'  on.  Here,  you, 
mister," — to  the  servant,. — "go  fetch  in  the  landlord." 

"  The  landlord,  sur  ?"  says  Pat,  the  servant,  in  some 
doubts  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  phrase. 

"Ay,  landlord — or  that  chap  that  was  in  here  just  now  ; 
tell  him  to  fetch  in  the  bill.  Ah,  here  you  are,  old  feller ; 
well,  what's  the  damages  ?"  asks  the  gent,  so  ambitious  of 
putting  the  party  through,  and  hauling  out  a  handful  of 
keys,  silver  and  coppers,  to  do  it  with. 

"Eight  bottles  of  that  old  flim-flam-di-rip-rap,"  pro 
nouncing  one  of  those  fancy  gamboge  titles  found  upon  an 
Astor  House  catalogue,  "ninety-six  dollars — " 

"  What  ?"  gasped  the  country  gent,  gathering  up  his  small 
change,  that  he  had  began  to  sort  out  on  the  table. 

"And  two  bottles  of  '  Shreider,'  and  cigars — seven 
dollars,"  coolly  continued  the  bar-clerk  ;  "one  hundred  and 
three  dollars." 

"  A  hundred  and  three  thunder — " 

"  A  HUNDRED  AND  THREE  DOLLARS  !"  cried  the  country 
gents,  in  one  breath,  all  starting  to  their  feet,  and  putting 
on  their  hats. 

The  clerk  explained  it,  clear  as  mud ;  the  trio  "  spudged 
up"  the  amount,  looked  very  sober,  and  walked  out. 

"  Come,  boys,"  said  Smith,  "let's  go  to  the  theatre." 

"  Guess  not,"  says  "  the  boys."  "  B'lieve  we'll  go  home  for 
to-night,  Mr.  Smith."  And  they  made  for  their  lodgings. 

If  those  country  gents  were  asked,  when  they  got  home, 
any  particulars  about  the  "  elephant,"  they'd  probably  hint 
something  about  getting  a  glimpse  of  him  at  the  Astor 
House. 


SIT  down  for  a  moment,  we  will  not  detain  you  long,  our 
story  will  interest  you,  we  are  sure,  for  it  is  most  com 
mendable,  brief,  and — singularly  true. 

A  poor  widow,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  was  the 
mother  of  three  pretty  children,  orphans  of  a  ship-builder, 
who  lost  his  life  in  the  corvette  Kensington,  a  naval  vessel, 
built  in  Kensington  for  one  of  the  South  American  re 
publics,  and  launched  in  1826.  The  South  Americans 
being  short  of  funds,  the  Kensington,  after  years  of  delay, 
was  sold  to  the  emperor  of  all  the  Ilussias,  and  sailed  for 
Constradt  in  1830.  Some  forty  of  the  carpenters,  who  had 
built  the  vessel,  went  out  in  her ;  she  had  immense,  but 
symmetrical  spars — carried  vast  clouds  of  canvass — was 
caught  off  Cape  Henlopen  in  a  squall — her  spars  came  thun 
dering  to  the  deck,  and  poor  Glenn,  the  ship  builder,  was 
among  the  slain. 

The  widow  was  allowed  but  a  brief  time  to  mourn  for 
the  departed ;  pinching  poverty  was  at  her  door ;  upon  her 
own  exertions  now  devolved  the  care  and  toil  of  rearing 
her  three  children.  Cynthia,  the  eldest,  was  a  pretty  bru 
nette,  of  thirteen ;  the  neighbors  thought  Cynthia  could 
"go  out  to  work;"  the  next  eldest,  Martin,  a  fine,  sturdy 
arid  intelligent  boy,  could  go  to  a  trade  ;  and  the  youngest, 
Rosa,  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  blue-eyed,  blonde  little 
girls  of  seven  years,  poetical  fancy  ever  realized,  "the 
neighbors  thought,"  ought  to  be  given  to  somebody,  to 
raise.  The  mother  was  but  a  feeble  woman  ;  it  would  be  a 
task  for  her  to  obtain  her  own  living,  they  thought ;  and 
so,  kind,  generous  souls,  with  that  peculiar  readiness  with 
24  (387) 


388  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

which  disinterested  friends  console  or  advise  the  unfortunate, 
"the  neighbors"  became  very  eloquent  and  argumentative. 
But  though  the  mother's  hands  were  weak,  her  heart  was 
strong,  and  her  love  for  her  children  still  stronger. 

It  is  rather  a  singular  trait  in  the  human  character,  it 
appears  to  us,  that  people  possessing  the  ordinary  attri 
butes  of  sane  Christians,  should  so  readily  advise  others  to 
attempt,  or  do,  that  from  which  they  would  instinctively 
recoil ;  the  mass  of  Widow  Glenn's  advisers  might  have 
been  far  more  serviceable  to  her,  by  contributing  their  mites 
towards  preserving  the  unity  of  her  little  and  precious 
family,  than  thus  savagely  advising  its  disbanding. 

Newspapers,  at  this  day,  were  far  less  numerous  very 
expensive,  and  circulated  to  a  very  limited  degree,  indeed. 
But  the  widow  took  a  paper,  a  family,  weekly  journal ;  and 
while  casting  her  vacant  eye  over  the  columns,  at  the  close 
of  a  Saturday  eve,  after  a  severe  week's  toil  for  the  bread 
her  little  and  precious  ones  had  eaten,  the  widow's  attention 
was  called  to  an  advertisement,  as  follows  : 

"  A  HOUSEKEEPER  WANTED. — An  elderly  gentleman  de 
sires  a  middle-aged,  pleasantly-disposed,  tidy  and  indus 
trious  American  woman,  to  take  charge  and  conduct  the 
domestic  affairs  of  his  household.  A  reasonable  compensa 
tion  allowed.  Good  reference  required,  the  applicant  to 
have  no  incumbrances.  Apply  at  this  office,  for  the  ad 
dress,  &c." 

The  eager  smile,  that  seemed  to  warm  the  wan  features 
of  the  widow,  as  she  glanced  over  the  advertisement,  was 
dimmed  and  darkened,  as  the  shining  river  of  summer  is 
shadowed  by  the  heavy  passing  cloud,  when  she  came  to 
the  chilling  words — the  applicant  to  have  no  incumbrances. 

"No  incumbrances,"  moaned  the  widow,  "shall  none  but 
God  deign  to  smile  or  have  mercy  on  the  helpless  orphans ; 
are  they  to  be  feared,  shunned,  hated,  because  helpless  ? 


THE   ADVERTISEMENT.  389 

Must  they  perish — die  with  me  alone — struggling  against 
our  woes,  poverty,  wretchedness?  No  !  I  know  there  is  a 
God,  he  is  good,  powerful,  merciful ;  he  will  turn  the  hearts 
of  some  towards  the  widow  and  the  orphan  ;  and  though 
basilisk-like  words  warn  me  to  hope  not,  I  will  apply — I 
will  attempt  to  win  attention,  work,  slave,  toil,  toil,  toil, 
until  ray  poor  hands  shall  wear  to  the  bone,  and  my  eyes 
no  longer  do  their  office — if  he  will  only  have  mercy,  pity 
for  my  poor,  poor  orphans — God  bless  them  !"  and  in  melt 
ing  tenderness  and  emotion,  the  poor  woman  dropped  her 
face  upon  her  lap  and  wept — her  tears  were  the  showers  of 
hope,  to  the  almost  parched  soil  of  her  heart,  and  as  the 
gentle  dews  of  heaven  fall  to  the  earth,  so  fell  the  widow's 
tears  in  balmy  freshness  upon  her  visions  of  a  brighter 
something — in  the  future. 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  evening ;  her  children  slept ;  the 
poor  woman  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  started  at 
once  for  the  office  of  the  newspaper.  The  publisher  was 
just  closing  his  sanctum,  but  he  gave  the  information  the 
widow  required,  and  favorably  impressed  with  Mrs.  Glenn's 
appearance  and  manner,  the  publisher,  a  quaker,  interro 
gated  her  on  various  points  of  her  present  condition,  pros 
pects,  &c. ;  and  observed,  that  but  for  her  children,  he  had 
no  doubt  of  the  widow's  suiting  the  old  man  exactly. 

"But  thee  must  not  be  neglected,  or  discarded  from 
honest  industry,  because  of  thy  responsibilities,  which  God 
hath  given  thee,"  said  the  quaker.  "  If  thy  lad  is  stout  of 
his  age,  and  a  good  boy,  I  will  provide  for  him ;  he  may 
learn  our  business,  and  be  off  thy  charge,  and  thee  may  be 
enabled  to  keep  thy  two  female  children  about  thee. 

On  the  following  Monday,  the  widow  signified  her  in 
tention  of  writing  a  few  lines  as  an  applicant  for  the  situa 
tion  of  housekeeper,  and  afterwards  to  consult  with  the 
publisher  in  regard  to  her  boy,  Martin,  and  then  bidding 
the  courteous  quaker  farewell,  she  sought  her  humble 


890  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

domicil,  with  a  much  lighter  heart  than  she  had  lately  car 
ried  from  her  distressed  and  lonely  home. 

In  an  ancient  part  of  the  Quaker  city,  facing  the  broad 
and  beautiful  Delaware  river,  stood  a  venerable  mansion  ; 
but  few  of  this  class  now  remain  in  Philadelphia,  and  the 
one  of  which  we  now  speak,  but  recently  passed  away,  in 
the  great  conflagration  that  visited  the  city  in  1850.  In 
this  substantial  and  stately  brick  edifice,  lived  one  of  the 
wealthy  and  retired  ship  brokers  of  Quakerdom.  He  was 
very  wealthy,  very  eccentric,  very  good-hearted,  but  pas 
sionate,  plethoric,  gouty,  and  seventy  years  of  age.  Mr. 
Job  Carson  had  lived  long  and  seen  much ;  he  had  been  so 
engrossed  in  clearing  his  fortune,  that  from  twenty-five  to 
forty,  he  had  not  bethought  him  of  that  almost  indispensable 
appendage  to  a  man's  comfort  in  this  world — a  wife.  He 
was  the  next  ten  years  considering  the  matter  over,  and 
then,  having  built  and  furnished  himself  a  costly  mansion, 
which  he  peopled  with  servants,  headed  by  a  maiden  sister 
as  housekeeper,  Job  thought,  upon  the  whole — to  which  his 
sister  added  her  strong  consent — that  matrimony  would 
greatly  increase  his  cares,  and  perhaps  add  more  noise  and 
confusion  to  his  household,  than  it  might  counterbalance  or 
offset  by  probable  comfort  in  "  wedded  happiness,"  so 
temptingly  set  forth  to  old  bachelors. 

"No,"  said  Job,  at  fifty,  "I'll  not  marry,  not  trade  off 
my  single  blessedness  yet ;  at  least,  there's  time  enough, 
there's  women  enough ;  I'm  young,  hale,  hearty,  in  the 
prime  of  life  ;  no,  I'll  not  give  up  the  ship  to  woman  yet." 

Another  ten  years  rolled  along,  and  the  thing  turned  up 
in  the  retired  merchant's  mind  again — he  was  now  sixty, 
and  one,  at  least,  of  the  objections  to  his  entering  the 
wedded  state,  removed — for  a  man  at  sixty  is  scarcely  too 
young  to  marry,  surely. 

"  Ah,  it's  all  up,"  quoth  Job  Carson.  "  I'm  spoiled  now. 
I've  had  my  own  way  so  long,  I  could  not  think  of  surren- 


THE   ADVERTISEMENT.  391 

dering  to  petticoats,  turning  my  house  into  a  nursery,  and 
turning  ray  back  on  the  joys,  quiet  and  comforts  of  bachelor 
hood.  No,  no,  Job  Carson — matrimony  be  hanged. 
You'll  none  of  it."  And  so  ten  years  more  passed — now 
age  and  luxury  do  their  work. 

"  0,  that  infernal  twinge  in  my  toe.  0,  there  it  is  again — 
hang  the  goat,  it  can't  be  gout.  Dr.  Bleedem  swears  I'm 
getting  the  gout.  Blockhead — none  of  my  kith  or  kin  ever 
had  such  an  infernal  complaint.  0,  ah-h-h,  that  infernal 
window  must  be  sand-bagged,  given  me  this  pain  in  the 
back,  and — Banquo  !  Where  the  deuce  is  that  nigger — 
Banquo-o-o  I" 

"Yis,  massa,  here  I  is,"  said  a  good-natured,  fat,  black 
and  sleek-looking  old  darkey,  poking  his  shining,  grinning 
face  into  the  old  gentleman's  study,  sitting,  playing  or 
smoking  room. 

"Here  you  are  ?  Where  ?  You  black  sarpint,  come  here  ; 
go  to  Jackplane,  the  carpenter,  and  tell  him  to  come  here 
and  make  my  sashes  tight,  d'ye  hear  ?" 

"Yis,  massa,  dem's  'em;  I'se  off." 

"  No,  you  ain't — come  here,  Banquo,  you  woolly  sou  of 
Congo,  you  ;  go  open  my  liquor  case,  bring  the  brandy  and 
some  cool  water.  There,  now  clear  yourself." 

"Yis,  massa,  I'se  gone,  dis  time — " 

"  No,  you  ain't,  come  back ;  go  to  old  Joe  Winepipes, 
and  tell  him  I  send  my  compliments  to  him,  and  if  he  wants 
to  continue  that  game  of  chess,  let  him  come  over  this 
afternoon,  d'ye  hear  ?" 

"Yis,  massa,  dem's  'em,  I'se  gone  dis  time — shuah!" 

"Well,  away  with  you." 

Old  Job  Carson  was  yet  a  rugged  looking  old  gentleman. 
He  had  survived  nearly  all  his  "  blood,  kith  and  kin ;"  his 
sister  had  paid  the  last  debt  of  nature  some  months  before, 
and  in  hopes  of  finding  some  one  to  fill  her  station,  in  his 


392  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

domestic  concerns,  his  advertisement  had  appeared  in  the 
Weekly  Bulletin. 

"Ah,  me,  it's  no  use  crying  about  spilt  milk,"  sighed  the 
old  gent  over  his  glass.  "  I  suppose  I've  been  a  fool ;  out 
lived  everybody,  everything  useful  to  me.  Made  a  fortune 
first,  nobody  to  spend  it  last.  Yes,  yes,"  continued  the 
old  man,  in  a  thoughtful  strain,  "  old  Job  Carson  will  soon 
slip  off  the  handle;  'poor  old  devil,'  some  bloodsucker  may 
say,  as  he  grabs  Job's  worldly  effects,  'he's  gone,  had  a 
hard  scrabble  to  get  together  these  things,  and  now,  we'll 
pick  his  bones.'  Well,  let  'em,  let  'em  ;  serves  me  right ; 
ought  to  have  known  it  before,  but  blast  and  rot  'em,  if 
they  only  enjoy  the  pillage  as  much  as  I  did  the  struggles 
to  keep  it  together,  why,  a — it  will  be  about  an  even  thing 
with  us,  after  all." 

"  Yis,  massa,  here  I  is,"  chuckled  Banquo,  again  putting 
his  black  bullet  pate  in  at  the  door. 

"  You  are,  eh?  Well,  clear  yourself — no,  come  back  ;  go 
down  to  Oatmeal's  store,  and  tell  him  to  let  old  Mrs. 
Dougherty,  and  the  old  blind  man,  and  the  sailor's  wife, 
and — and — the  rest  of  them,  have  their  groceries,  again, 
this  week — only  another  week,  mind,  for  I'm  not  going  to 
support  the  whole  neighborhood  any  longer — tell  him  so." 

"Yis,  massa,  I'se  gone." 

"Wait,  come  here,  Banquo;  well,  never  mind — clear 
out." 

But  Banquo  returned  in  a  moment,  saying  : 

"  Dar's  a  lady  at  the  doo-ah,  sah ;  says  she  wants  to  see 
you,  sah,  'bout  'ticlar  business,  sah." 

"  Is,  eh  ?  Well,  call  her  into  the  parlor,  I'll  be  down — 
ah-h,  that  infernal  twinge  again,  ah-h-h-h,  ah-h !  What  a 
stupid  ass  a  man  is  to  hang  around  in  this  world  until  he's 
a  nuisance  to  himself  and  every  body  else !"  grunted  old 
Job,  as  he  groped  his  way  down  stairs,  and  into  the  parlor. 

"  Good  morning,  ma'am,"  said  he,  as  he  confronted  the 


-Three  children?"  gruffly  responded'  tW  brtT  geritleiSn. '   '"'Ah,  umph,  what  busiuesa 
have  you,  ma'ain,  with  three  children?" — Page  393. 


THE   ADVERTISEMENT.  393 

widow,  who,  in  the  utmost  taste  of  simple  neatness,  had 
arranged  her  spare  dress,  to  meet  the  umpire  of  her  future 
fate. 

Mrs.  Glenn  respectfully  acknowledged  the  salutation,  and 
at  once  opened  her  business  to  the  bluff  old  man. 

"Yes,  yes;  I'm  a  poor,  unfortunate  creature,  ma'am  ;  I'm 
nothing,  nobody,  any  more.  I  want  somebody  to  see  that 
I'm  not  robbed,  or  poisoned,  and  that  I  may  have  a  bed  to 
lie  upon,  and  a  clean  piece  of  linen  to  my  back  occasion 
ally,  and  a — that's  all  I  want,  ma'am." 

The  widow  feigned  to  hope  she  knew  the  duties  of  a 
housekeeper,  and  situated  as  she  was,  it  was  a  labor  of  love 
to  work — toil,  for  those  misfortune  had  placed  in  her  charge. 

"  Eh  ?  what's  that — haven't  got  incumbrances,  have  you, 
ma'am  ?" 

"  I  have  three  children,  sir,"  meekly  said  the  widow. 

"  Three  children  ?"  gruffly  responded  the  old  gentleman  ; 
"ah,  umph,  what  business  have  you,  ma'am,  with  three  chil 
dren  ?" 

The  widow,  not  apparently  able  to  answer  such  a  poser, 
the  old  gentleman  continued  : 

"  Poor  widows,  poor  people  of  any  kind,  have  no  busi 
ness  with  incumbrances,  ma'am  ;  no  excuse  at  all,  ma'am, 
for  'em." 

"  So,  alas  !"  said  Mrs.  Glenn,  "  I  find  the  world  too— 
too  much  inclined  to  reason  ;  but  I  shall  trust  to  the  mercy 
and  providence  of  the  Lord,  if  denied  the  kind  feelings  of 
mortals." 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes,  that's  it,  ma'am  ;  it's  all  very  fine,  ma'am  ; 
but  too  many  poor,  foolish  creatures  get  ^hemselves  in  a 
scrape,  then  depend  upon  the  Lord  to  help  'em  out.  This 
shifting  the  responsibility  to  the  shoulders  of  the  Lord  isn't 
right.  I  don't  wonder  the  Lord  shuts  his  ears  to  half  he's 
asked  to  do,  ma'am." 


394  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"Well,  sir,  I  thought  I  would  call,  though  I  feared  my 
children  would  be  an  objection  to* — " 

"Yes,  yes, — I  don't  want  incurabrances,  ma'am." 

"  But  I — I  a — " — the  widow's  heart  was  too  full  for  utte 
rance;  she  moved  towards  the  door.  "  Good  morning,  sir." 

"  Stop,  come  back,  ma'am,  sit  down  ;  it's  a  pity — you've 
no  business,  ma'am,  as  I  said  before,  to  have  incumbrances, 
when  you  haven't  got  any  visible  means  of  support.  Now, 
if  you  only  had  one,  one  incumbrance — and  that  you'd  no 
business  to  have" — said  the  old  gent,  doggedly,  tapping  an 
antique  tortoise-shell  snuff  box,  and  applying  "the  pun 
gent  grains  of  titillating  dust,"  as  Pope  observes,  to  his 
proboscis,  "  if  you  had  only  one  incumbrance — but  you've 
got  a  house  full,  ma'am." 

"No,  sir,  only  three  !"  answered  widow  Glenn. 

"Three,  only  three  ?  God  bless  me,  ma'am,  I  wouldn't 
be  a  poor  woman  with  two — no,  with  one  incumbrance  at 
my  petticoat  tails — for  the  biggest  ship  and  cargo  old  Steve 
Girard  ever  owned,  ma'am." 

"I  might,"  meekly  said  the  widow,  "put  my  son  with 
the  printer,  sir ;  he  has  offered  to  take  my  poor  boy." 

"  Two  girls  and  a  boy  ?"  inquiringly  asked  the  old  gent, 
applying  the  dust,  and  manipulating  his  box.  "  How  old  ? 
Eldest  thirteen,  eh  ? — boy  eleven,  and  the  youngest  seven, 
eh  ?"  and  working  a  traverse,  or  solving  some  problematic 
point,  Job  Carson  stuck  his  hands  under  his  morning  gown, 
and  strode  over  the  floor  ;  after  a  few  evolutions  of  the  kind, 
he  stopped — fumbled  in  a  drawer  of  a  secretary,  and  plac 
ing  a  ten  dollar  note  in  the  widow's  hand,  he  said: 

"  There,  ma'am ;  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  want  you,  but 
to-morrow  morning,  if  you  have  time,  from  other  arid  more 
important  business,  call  in,  bring  your  children  with  you ; 
good  morning,  ma'am — Banquo  !" 
"  Yis,  sah;  I'se  beak." 


THE   ADVERTISEMENT.  395 

"  Show  the  lady  out — good  morning,  ma'am,  good  morn 
ing." 

"I  like  that  woman's  looks,"  said  old  Job,  continuing 
his  walk  ;  "  she's  plain  and  tidy  ;  she's  industrious,  I'll  war 
rant  ;  if  she  only  hadn't  that  raft  of  incumbrances  ;  what 
do  these  people  have  incumbrances  for,  anyway  ? — " 

"Lady  at  the  doo-ah,  sah,"  said  Banquo. 

"  Show  her  in.  Good  morning,  ma'am  ;  Banquo,  a  seat 
for  the  lady ;  yes,  ma'am,  I  did  ;  I  want  a  housekeeper.  I 
advertised  for  one.  How  many  servants  do  I  keep  ?  Well, 
ma'am,  I  keep  as  many  as  I  want.  Have  visitors  ?  Of 
course  I  have.  What  and  where  are  my  rooms  ?  Why, 
madam,  I  own  the  house,  every  brick  and  lath  in  it.  I  go 
to  bed,  and  get  up,  and  go  round  ;  come  in  and  out,  when  I 
feel  like  it.  What  church  do  I  worship  in  ?  I've  assisted 
in  building  a  number,  own  a  half  of  one,  and  a  third  of 
several ;  but,  ma'am,  between  you  and  I — I  don't  want  to 
be  rude  to  a  lady,  ma'am,  but  I  do  think,  this  examination 
ain't  to  my  liking — you  don't  think  the  place  would  suit 
you,  eh  ?  Well,  I  think  your  ladyship  wouldn't  suit  me, 
ma'am,  so  I'll  bid  your  ladyship  good  morning,"  said  old 
Job,  bowing  very  obsequiously  to  the  stiff-starched  and 
acrimonious  dame,  who,  returning  the  old  gentleman's  bow 
with  the  same  "  high  pressure"  order,  seized  her  skirts  in 
one  hand,  and  agitating  her  fan  with  the  other,  she  stepped 
out,  or  finikined  along  to  the  hall  door,  and  as  Banquo 
flew  around,  and  put  on  the  extras  to  let  her  ladyship  out, 
she  gave  the  darkey  a  pat  on  the  head  with  her  fan,  and 
looking  crab-apples  at  the  poor  negro,  she  rushed  down  the 
steps  and  disappeared. 

"Tank  you,  ma'am  ;  come  again,  eb  you  please — of'n  1" 
said  the  pouting  negro. 

"Yes,  sah;  here's  nudder  lady,  sah,"  says  Banquo,  ush 
ering  in  a  rather  ruddy,  jolly-looking  and  perfectly-at-home 
daughter  of  the  "giin  o'  the  sae."  The  old  gentleman 


396  HUMOUS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

eyed  her  liberal  proportions ;  consulting  his  snuff-box,  he 
answered  "yes"  to  the  woman's  inquiry,  if  he  was  the  gin- 
tleman  wanting  the  housekeeper. 

"Did  you  read  my  advertisement,  ma'am  ?" 

"  Me  rade  it  ?  Not  I,  faix.  Mr.  Mullony,  our  landlord, 
was  saying  till  us — " 

"Are  you  married,  too  ?" 

"  Married  two  ?  Do  I  look  like  a  woman  as  would  marry 
two  ?  No,  sur ;  I'm  a  dacent  woman,  sur  5  my  name  is 
Hannah  Geaughey,  Jimmy  Geaughey's  my  husband,  sur  ; 
he,  poor  man,  wrought  in  the  board-yard  till  he  was  sun 
sthruck,  by  manes  of  falling  from  a  cuart,  sur." 

"  Well,  ma'am,  that  will  do,  I'm  sorry  for  your  husband — 
one  dollar,  there  it  is  ;  you  wouldn't  suit  me  at  all ;  good 
morning,  ma'am.  Banquo,  show  the  good  woman  to  the 
door." 

"  But,  sur,  I  want  the  place  I" 

"I  don't  want  you — good  morning." 

"  Dis  way,  ma'am,"  said  Banquo,  marshalling  the  woman 
to  the  hall. 

"  Stand  away,  ye  nager ;  it's  your  masther  I'm  spakin' 
wid." 

"Go  along,  go  along,  woman,  go,  go,  go!"  roared  the 
old  gent. 

"  But,  as  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Mullony  said— says  he — who 
the  divil  you  push'u,  you  black  nager  ?"  said  the  woman, 
grabbing  Banquo's  woolly  top-knot. 

"  Dis  way,  ma'am,"  persevered  Banquo,  quartering  to 
wards  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Mullony  was  sayin',  sur — " 

"  Dis  way,  ma'am,"  continued  the  darkey,  crowding  Mrs. 
Geaughey,  while  his  master  was  gesticulating  furiously  to 
keep  on  crowding  her.  Finally,  Banquo  vanquished  the 
Irish  woman,  and  received  orders  from  his  master  to  admit 
no  more  applicants — the  place  was  filled. 


THE  ADVERTISEMENT.  397 

That  afternoon,  old  Captain  Winepipes — a  retired  mer 
chant  and  ship-master,  an  old  bachelor,  too,  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  exchanging  visits  with  Job  Carson,  sipping  brandy 
and  water,  talking  over  old  times  and  playing  chess — came 
to  finish  a  litigated  game,  and  Job  and  he  discussed  the 
matter  of  taking  care  of  the  widow  and  children  of  the 
dead  ship-builder.  At  length,  it  was  settled  that,  if  the 
second  interview  with  the  widow,  and  an  exhibition  of  her 
children,  proved  satisfactory  to  Job  Carson,  he  should  take 
them  in  ;  if  found  more  than  Job  could  attend  to — 

"Why  a — I'll  go  you  halves,  Job,"  said  Captain  Wine- 
pipes. 

Next  day,  Widow  Glenn  and  her  pretty  children  ap 
peared  at  the  door  of  Carson's  mansion  ;  and  Banquo,  full 
of  pleasant  anticipations,  ushered  them  into  the  retired 
merchant's  presence. 

It  was  evident,  at  the  first  glance  the  old  gentleman  gave 
the  group,  that  the  battle  was  more  than  half  won. 

"  Fine  boy,  that ;  come  here,  sir — eleven  years  of  age, 
eh  ?  Your  name's  Martin — Martin  Glenn,  eh  ?  Well, 
Martin,  my  lad,  you've  got  a  big  world  before  you — a  fuss 
ing,  fuming  world,  not  worth  finding  out,  not  worth  the 
powder  that  would  blow  it  up.  You've  got  to  take  your 
position  in  the  ranks,  too,  mean  and  contemptible  as  they 
are ;  but  you  may  make  a  good  man ;  if  the  world  don't 
benefit  you,  why  a — you  can  benefit  it ;  that's  the  way  I've 
done — been  obliged  to  do  it,  ain't  sorry  for  it,  neither," 
said  the  old  man,  with  evident  emotion. 

"  Your  name  is  Cynthia,  eh  ?  And  you  are  a  fine  grown 
girl  for  your  age,  surely.  Cynthia,  you'll  soon  be  capable 
of  '  keeping  house,'  too  ;  you've  got  a  world  before  you, 
too,  my  dear ;  a  wicked,  scandalous  world ;  a  world  full  of 
deceit  and  misery — look  at  your  mother,  look  at  me  !  Ah, 
well,  it's  all  our  own  fault ;  yours,  madam,  for  having  these 
— these  incumbrances,  and  mine,  poor  devil — for  not  having 


398  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

7em.  Cynthia,  you're  a  fine  girl;  a  good  girl,  I  know. 
Ah,  here's  mamma's  pet,  I  suppose ;  Rose  Glenn,  very 
pretty  name,  pretty  girl,  too,  very  pretty.  Lips  and  cheeks 
like  cherries,  eyes  brighter  than  Brazil  diamonds.  Ma'am, 
you've  got  great  treasures  here  ;  a  man  must  be  a  stupid  ass 
to  call  these  incumbrances.  They  are  jewels  of  inestimable 
value.  What's  my  filthy  bank  accounts,  dollars  and  cents, 
houses,  goods  and  chattels,  that  fire  may  destroy,  and 
thieves  steal — to  these  blessings  that — that  God  has  given 
the  lone  widow  to  strengthen  her — cheer  her  in  the  dark 
path  of  life  ?  God  is  great,  generous,  and  just ;  I  see  it 
now,  plainer  than  I  ever  did  before.  Banquo !" 

"  Yis'r,  I'se  here,  massa." 

"  Go  tell  Counsellor  Prime  to  call  on  me  immediately  ; 
tell  Captain  Winepipes  to  come  over — I  want  to  see  him. 
I'm  going  to  make  a  fool  of  myself,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  sah,  I'se  gone  ;  gorry,  I  gues  dere's  suffiri  gwoin  to 
happen  to  dat  lady  and  dem  chil'ns — shuah  I"  said  Banquo, 
rushing  out  of  the  house. 

The  fate  of  the  ship-builder's  family  was  fixed.  Job 
Carson  proposed — and  the  widow,  of  course,  consented — 
that  Martin  Glenn  should  become  the  adopted  son  of  the  old 
gentleman,  Job  Carson  ;  and  that  he  should  choose  a  trade 
or  profession,  which  he  should  then,  or  later,  learn,  making 
the  old  gentleman's  house  as  much  his  home  as  circum 
stances  would  permit ;  the  two  girls  were  to  remain  under 
the  same  roof  with  the  mother,  who  was  at  once  installed  as 
housekeeper  for  the  bluff  and  generous  old  gentleman. 

Old  Captain  Winepipes  insisted  on  a  share  in  the  settle 
ment,  to  wit :  that  both  girls  should  be  educated  at  his  ex 
pense,  which  was  finally  acceded  to,  adding,  that  in  case 
he — Captain  Joseph  Winepipes — should  live  to  see  Rose 
GlcMin  a  bride,  he  should  provide  for  her  wedding,  and  give 
her  a  dowry. 

"  Set  that  clown  in  black  and  white,  Mr.  Prime,"  said 


THE   ADVERTISEMENT.  399 

Job,  "and  that  I,  Job  Carson,  do  agree,  should  I  live  to 
see  Cynthia  Glenn  a  wife,  to  give  her  a  comfortable  start 
in  the  world — set  that  down,  for  I  will  do  it,  yes,  I  will," 
said  the  old  gent,  with  an  emphatic  rap  on  his  snuff-box. 


Ten  years  passed  away  ;  Captain  Winepipes  has  paid  the 
debt  of  nature ;  he  did  not  live  to  see  Rose  Glenn  a  wife ; 
but,  nevertheless,  he  left  a  clause  in  his  will,  that  fully  car 
ried  out  his  expressed  intentions  when  Rose  did  marry, 
some  two  years  after  she  arrived  at  the  age  of  sweet  seven 
teen.  Martin  Glenn  Carson  graduated  in  the  printing 
office,  and  very  recently  filled  one  of  the  most  important 
stations  in  the  judiciary  of  Illinois,  as  well  as  a  chivalrous 
part  in  the  recent  war  with  Mexico.  Cynthia  was  wedded 
to  a  well  known  member  of  the  Philadelphia  bar,  an  event 
that  Job  Carson  barely  lived  to  see,  and,  as  he  agreed  to, 
donated  a  sum,  quite  munificent,  towards  making  things 
agreeable  in  the  progress  of  her  married  life.  Widow  Glenn 
remained  a  faithful  servant  and  friend  to  the  old  merchant, 
and,  upon  his  death,  she  became  heir  to  the  family  mansion, 
and  means  to  keep  it  up  at  the  usual  bountiful  rate.  Large 
bequests  were  made  in  Job  Carson's  will,  to  charitable  in 
stitutes,  but  the  bulk  of  his  fortune  fell  to  his  adopted  son, 
Martin,  who  proved  not  unworthy  of  his  good  fortune. 
Banquo  ended  his  days  in  the  service  of  the  widow,  who 
had  cause  for  and  took  pleasure  in  blessing  the  vehicle  that 
conveyed  to  herself  and  orphans  their  rare  good  fortune,  in 
guise  of  a  NEWSPAPER  ADVERTISEMENT. 


in  a  Jfortnitt-§nititr*s  fife. 


WE  do  not  now  recollect  what  philosopher  it  was 
who  said,  "it's  no  disgrace  to  be  poor,  but  it's 
often  confoundedly  unhandy  !"  But,  we  have  little  or  no 
sympathy  for  poor  folks,  who,  ashamed  of  their  poverty, 
make  as  many  and  tortuous  writhings  to  escape  its  incon 
veniences,  as  though  it  was  "against  the  law"  to  be  poor. 
It  is  the  cause  of  incalculable  human  misery,  to  seem  what 
we  are  not;  to  appear  beyond  want  —  yea,  even  in  affluence 
and  comfort,  when  the  belly  is  robbed  to  clothe  the  back  — 
—  the  inner  man  crucified  to  make  the  outside  lie  you  through 
the  world,  or  into  —  genteel  "society."  This,  though  abom 
inable,  is  common,  and  leads  to  innumerable  ups  and  downs, 
crime  and  fun,  in  this  old  world  that  we  temporarily  inhabit. 

Choosing  rather  to  give  our  life  pictures  a  familiar  and 
diverting  —  and  certainly  none  the  less  instructive  garb  — 
than  to  hunt  up  misery,  and  depict  the  woful  tragics  of  our 
existence,  we  will  give  the  facts  of  a  case  —  not  uncommon, 
we  ween,  either,  that  came  to  us  from  a  friend  of  one  of  the 
parties. 

In  most  cities  —  especially,  perhaps,  in  Baltimore  and 
Washington,  are  any  quantity  of  decayed  families  ;  widows 
and  orphans  of  men  —  who,  while  blessed  with  oxygen  and 
hydrogen  sufficient  to  keep  them  healthy  and  active  —  held 
offices,  or  such  positions  in  the  business  world  as  enabled 
them  and  their  families  to  carry  pretty  stiff  necks,  high 
heads,  and  go  into  what  is  called  "  good  society  ;"  meaning 
of  course  where  good  furniture  garnishes  good  finished  domi- 
cils,  good  carpets,  good  rents,  good  dinners,  and  where  good 
clothes  are  exhibited  —  but  where  good  intentions,  good  man- 
(400) 


INCIDENTS    IN   A   FORTUNE-HUNTER'S    LIFE.       401 

ners  and  morals  are  mostly  of  no  great  importance.  As,  in 
most  all  such  cases,  when,  by  some  fortuitous  accident, 
the  head  of  the  family  collapses,  or  dies, — the  reckless  re 
gard  for  society  having  led  to  the  squandering  of  the  in 
come,  fast  or  faster  than  it  came,  the  poor  family  is  driven 
by  the  same  society,  so  coveted,  to  hide  away — move  off, 
and  by  a  thousand  dodges  of  which  wounded  pride  is  ca 
pable,  work  their  way  through  the  world,  under  tissues  of 
false  pretences;  at  once  ludicrous  and  pitiable.  Such  a- 
family  we  have  in  view.  Colonel  Somebody  held  a  lucra 
tive  office  under  government,  in  the  city  of  Washington. 
Colonel  Somebody,  one  day,  very  unexpectedly,  died. 
There  was  nothing  mysterious  in  that,  but  the  Somebodies 
having  always  cut  quite  a  swell  in  the  "  society"  of  the  capital 
• — which  society,  let  us  tell  you,  is  of  the  most  fluctuating, 
tin-foil  and  ephemeral  character;  it  was  by  some  considered 
strange,  that  as  soon  as  Colonel  Somebody  had  been 
decently  buried  in  his  grave,  his  family  at  once  made  a  sale 
of  their  most  expensive  furniture — the  horses,  carriage,  and 
man-servant  disappeared,  and  the  Somebodies  apprized 
society  that  they  were  going  north,  to  reside  upon  an  es 
tate  of  the  Colonel's  in  New  York.  And  so  they  vanished. 
Whither  they  went  or  how  they  fared  society  did  not  know, 
and  society  did  not  care  ! 

Mrs.  Somebody  had  two  daughters  and  a  son,  the  eldest 
twenty-three,  confessedly,  and  the  youngest,  the  son,  seven 
teen.  Marriages,  in  such  society,  floating  and  changing  as  it 
does  in  Washington,  are  not  frequent,  and  less  happy  or  pros 
perous  when  effected  ;  every  body,  inclined  to  become  ac 
quainted,  or  form  matrimonial  connections,  are  ever  on  the 
alert  for  something  or  somebody  bitter  than  themselves  ;  and 
under  such  circumstances,  naturally  enough,  Miss  Alice 
Somebody — though  a  pretty  girl — talented,  as  the  world  goes, 
highly  educated,  too,  as  many  hundreds  beside  her,  was  still 
a  spinster  at  twenty-three.  The  fact  was,  Mrs.  Somebody 
25 


402  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

was  a  woman  of  experience  in  the  world — indeed,  a  dozen 
years'  experience  in  life  at  Washington,  had  given  her  very 
definite  ideas  of  expediency  and  diplomacy  ;  and  hence,  as 
the  means  were  cut  off  to  live  in  their  usual  style  and  ex- 
pensiveness — Mrs.  Somebody  packed  up  and  retired  to 
Baltimore.  The  son  soon  found  an  occupation  in  a  store — 
the  daughter,  being  a  woman  of  taste  and  education,  re 
sorted  to — as  a  matter  of  diversion — they  could  not  think 
of  earning  a  living,  of  course  ! — the  needle — while  Mrs. 
Somebody  arranged  a  pair  of  neat  apartments,  for  two 
"  gentlemen  of  unexceptionable  reference,"  as  boarders. 

During  their  palmy  days  at  the  capital  of  the  nation, 
Miss  Alice  Somebody  came  in  contact  with  a  young  gen 
tleman  named  Rhapsody, — of  pleasant  and  respectable 
demeanor,  an  office-holder,  but  not  high  up  enough  to  suit 
the  tastes  and  aims  of  Colonel  Somebody  and  his  lady  ; 
and  so,  our  friend  Rhapsody  stood  little  or  no  chance  for 
favor  or  preferment  in  the  graces  of  Miss  Alice,  though  he 
was  a  recognized  visitor  at  the  Colonel's  house,  and  essayed 
to  make  an  impression  upon  the  heart's  affections  of  the 
Colonel's  daughter. 

Time  fled,  and  with  its  fleetings  came  those  changes  in 
the  fates  and  fortunes  of  the  Somebodies,  we  have  noted. 
Nor  was  our  friend  Rhapsody  without  his  changes, — muta 
tions  of  fortune,  a  change  of  government,  made  changes. 
Rhapsody  one  morning  was  not  as  much  surprised  as  mor 
tified  to  find  his  "services  no  longer  required,"  as  a  new 
hand  was  awaiting  his  withdrawal.  Rhapsody,  true  to 
custom  at  the  capital — lived  up  to  and  ahead  of  his  salary; 
and,  when  deposed,  deemed  it  prudent  to  make  his  exit 
from  a  spot  no  longer  likely  to  be  favorable  to  the  self- 
respect  or  personal  comfort  of  a  man  bereft  of  power,  and 
without  patronage  or  position.  Rhapsody,  by  trade  (luckily 
he  had  a  trade),  was  a  boot-maker.  Start  not,  reader,  at 
the  idea;  we  know  "shoemaker"  may  have  a  tendency  to 


INCIDENTS    IN   A    FORTUNE-HUNTER'S    LIFE.       403 

shock  some  people,  whose  moral  and  mental  culture  has 
been  sadly  neglected,  or  quite  perverted ;  but  Rhapsody 
was  but  a  boot-maker,  and  no  doubt  quite  as  gentlemanly — 
physically  and  mentally  considered,  as  the  many  thousands 
who  merely  wear  boots,  for  the  luxury  of  which  they  are 
indebted  to  the  skill,  labor  and  industry  of  others.  Rhap 
sody  came  down  gracefully,  and  quite  as  manfully,  to  his 
level,  only  changing  the  scene  of  his  endeavors  to  the  city 
of  monuments.  Rhapsody  had  feelings — pride.  He  sought 
obscurity,  in  which  he  might  perform  the  necessary  labors 
of  his  craft,  to  enable  him  to  keep  his  head  above  water, 
and  await  that  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,  when  perhaps  he 
might  again  be  drifted  to  fortune  and  favor. 

Rhapsody  took  lodgings  in  a  respectable  hotel ;  he  arose 
late — took  breakfast,  read  the  news — smoked — lounged — 
dressed,  and  went  through  the  ordinary  evolutions  of  a  gen 
tleman  of  leisure,  until  he  dined  at  3  P.  M. ;  then,  by  a 
circuitous  way,  he  proceeded  to  his  shop — put  on  his  work 
ing  attire,  and  went  at  it  faithfully,  until  midnight,  when, 
having  accomplished  his  maximum  of  toil,  he  re-dressed — • 
walked  to  his  hotel — talked  politics — fashions,  etc.,  took  his 
glass  of  wine  with  a  friend,  and  very  quietly  retired  ;  to 
rise  on  the  morrow,  and  go  through  the  same  routine  from 
day  to  day,  only  varying  it  a  little  by  an  eye  to  an  eligible 
marriage,  or  a  place. 

Rhapsody — we  must  give  him  the  credit  of  the  fact — 
from  no  mawkish  feeling  of  his  own,  but  from  force  of 
public  opinion,  resorted  to  this  secret  manner  of  eking  out 
his  daily  bread,  and  acting  out  his  part  of  the  fictitious 
gentleman.  During  one  of  his  morning  lounges — acciden 
tally,  Rhapsody  met  Miss  Somebody  in  the  street.  They 
had  not  met  for  some  few  years,  and  it  may  not  be  trouble 
some  to  conceive,  that  Miss  Alice — under  the  new  order 
of  things — was  more  pleased  than  otherwise  to  renew  the 
acquaintance  of  other  days,  with  a  gentleman  still  supposed 


404  HUMORS    OF   FALCOXBRIDGE. 

to  be — and  his  attire  and  manner  surely  gave  no  sign  of  an 
altered  state  of  affairs- — in  a  position  recognizable  by  so 
ciety. 

Rhapsody  renewed  his  attentions  to  the  Somebody  fa 
mily,  and  Miss  Alice  in  particular — with  fervor.  He  ad 
mitted  himself  no  longer  an  attache  of  government,  but 
offset  the  deprivation  of  government  patronage,  by  assert 
ing  that  he  was  graduating  for  a  higher  sphere  in  life  than 
the  drudgery  and  abjectness  of  a  clerkship — he  was  study 
ing  political  economy,  and  the  learned  profession  of  the 
law ! 

The  Somebodies  were  game;  not  a  concession  would 
they  make  to  stern  indigence ;  it  was  merely  for  the  sake 
of  quietude,  said  Mrs.  Somebody,  and  the  solace  of  retire 
ment  from  the  gay  and  tempestuous  whirls  of  society,  that 
we  changed  the  scene  and  dropped  a  peg  lower  in  domestic 
show.  Rhapsody  believed  Colonel  Somebody  a  man  of 
substance.  He  knew  how  easy  it  was  to  account  for  the 
expenditure  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a  year,  but  it  did  not 
so  readily  appear  possible  for  a  man  holding  the  Colonel's 
place  and  perquisites,  some  thousands  a  year,  to  die  poor, 
without  estate ;  ergo,  the  Somebodies  were  still,  doubtless, 
somebody,  and  the  more  the  infatuated  Rhapsody  dwelt 
upon  it,  the  more  he  absorbed  the  idea  of  forming  an 
alliance  with  the  dead  Colonel's  family.  And  the  favor 
with  which  he  was  received  seemed  to  facilitate  matters  as 
desirably  as  could  be  wished  for.  What  airy  castles,  or 
gossamer  projects  may  have  haunted  the  fancy  of  our  san 
guine  friend,  Rhapsody,  we  know  not ;  but  that  he  whacked 
away  more  cheerily  at  his  trade,  and  kept  up  his  appear 
ances  spiritedly,  was  evident  enough.  An  expert  and 
artistic  craftsman,  he  secured  paying  work,  and  executed  it 
to  the  satisfaction  of  his  employers. 

The  industry  of  the  Somebodies  was  one  of  the  traits  in 
the  characters  of  the  two  young  women,  particularly  com- 


INCIDENTS    IN    A    FORTUNE-HUNTER'S    LIFE.       405 

mendatory  to  Rhapsody ;  he  seldom  paid  them  a  morning 
or  afternoon  call,  that  they  were  not  diligently  engaged 
with  needles  and  Berlin  wool — fashioning  wrought  suspen 
ders  for  brother,  slippers  for  brother,  or  mother,  or  sister, 
or  the  Rev.  Mr.  So-and-So — the  recently  made  inmate  of 
the  family.  The  multiplicity  of  such  performances,  for 
brother,  mother,  sister,  the  reverend  gentleman — mere  pas 
time,  as  Mrs.  Somebody  would  remark, — most  probably 
would  have  caused  a  mystery  or  misgiving  in  the  minds  of 
many  adventurous  Lotharios;  but  Rhapsody,  though,  as 
we  see,  a  man  of  the  world,  had  something  yet  to  learn  of 
society  and  its  complexities.  Things  progressed  smoothly 
— the  reverend  gentleman  facetiously  cajoled  Miss  Alice 
and  the  mother  upon  the  issue  of  coming  events — the  lively 
young  lawyer,  etc.,  etc., — and  it  seemed  to  be  a  settled  mat 
ter  that  Miss  Alice  was  to  be  the  bride  of  Mr.  Rhapsody 
at  last. 

Rhapsody,  usually,  after  dark,  in  the  evening,  in  his 
laboring  garments,  made  his  return  of  work  and  received 
more.  Whilst  thus  out,  one  evening,  on  business,  in  mak 
ing  a  sudden  turn  of  a  corner,  he  came  plump  upon  Mrs. 
Somebody  and  Alice !  Rhapsody  would  have  dashed  down 
a  cellar. — into  a  shop — up  an  alley,  or  sunk  through  the 
footwalk,  had  any  such  opportunity  offered,  but  there  was 
none — he  was  there — beneath  the  flame  of  a  street  lamp, 
with  the  eagle  eyes  of  all  the  party  upon  him !  Cut  off 
from  retreat,  he  boldly  faced  the  enemy  ! 

He  was  going  to  a  political  caucus  meeting  in  a  noisy 
and  turbulent  ward — apprehended  a  disturbance — donned 
those  shady  habiliments,  and  the  large  green  bag  in  his 
hand,  that  a — well,  though  it  did  not  seem  to  contain  such 
goods,  was  supposed,  for  the  nonce,  to  contain  his  books 
and  papers  ;  documents  he  was  likely  to  have  use  for  at  the 
caucus  !  Rhapsody  got  through — it  was  a  tight  shave  ;  he 
dexterously  declined  accompanying  the  ladies  home — they 


406  HUMOUS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

were  rather  queerly  attired  themselves,  it  occurred  to  Rhap 
sody  ;  they  made  some  excuse  for  their  appearance,  and  so 
the  maskers  quit,  even.  Time  passed  on — Alice  and  Rhap 
sody  had  almost  climaxed  the  preparatory  negotiations  of 
an  hymenial  conclusion,  when  another  contretemps  came 
to  pass — it  was  the  grand  finale. 

It  was  on  a  rather  blustery  night,  that  Rhapsody,  in 
haste,  sought  the  shop  of  his  employer ;  he  had  work  in 
hand  which,  being  ordered  done  at  a  certain  hour,  for  an 
anxious  customer,  he  was  in  haste  to  deliver.  His  green 
bag  under  his  arm,  in  rushed  Rhapsody, — the  servant  of 
the  customer  was  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  bottier  and  his 
master's  boots.  The  shopman  eagerly  seized  Rhapsody's 
verdant-colored  satchel,  and  out  came  the  boots,  and  which 
underwent  many  critical  inspections,  eliciting  sundry  pro 
fessional  remarks  from  the  shopman,  to  our  hero,  Rhapsody, 
who,  in  his  business  matters  had  assumed,  it  appeared,  the 
more  humble  name  of  Mr.  Jones,  in  the  shop.  The  custo 
mer's  servant  stood  by  the  counter — fencing  off  a  lady, 
further  on — from  immediate  notice  of  Rhapsody.  A  side 
glance  revealed  sundry  patterns  or  specimens  of  most  ele 
gantly-wrought  slippers — the  boss  of  the  shop,  and  the 
lady,  were  apparently  negotiating  a  trade,  in  these  em 
broidered  articles  ;  the  lady,  now  but  a  few  feet  from  Rhap 
sody  and  the  garrulous  shopman,  turned  toward  the  poor 
fellow  just  as  the  shopman  had  stuffed  more  work  into  the 
green  bag — their  eyes  met.  Rhapsody  felt  an  all-overish 
sensation  peculiar  to  that  experienced  by  an  amateur  in  a 
shower  bath,  during  his  first  douse,  or  the  incipient  criminal 
detected  in  his  initiatory  crime  !  Poor  Rhapsody  felt  like 
fainting,  while  Miss  Alice  Somebody,  without  the  nerve  to 
gather  up  her  work,  or  withstand  a  further  test  of  the  force 
of  circumstances,  precipitately  left  the  store,  her  face  red 
as  scarlet,  and  her  demeanor  wild  and  incomprehensible,  at 

least  to  all  but  Rhapsody. 

*  *  *  #  *  * 


INCIDENTS   IN   A  FORTUNE-HUNTER'S   LIFE.       407 

Rhapsody  was  at  breakfast  the  next  morning — a  servant 
announced  a  gentleman  in  the  parlor  desirous  of  an  inter 
view  with  Mr.  Rhapsody — it  was  granted,  and  soon  Jones, 
the  boot-maker,  confronted  the  Rev.  Mr.So-and-So.  Though 
an  inclination  to  smile  played  about  the  pleasant  features 
of  the  reverend  gentleman,  he  assumed  to  be  severe  upon 
what  he  called  the  duplicity  of  Mr.  Rhapsody ;  and  that 
gentleman  patiently  hearing  the  story  out,  quietly  asked  : 

"Are  you,  sir,  here  as  an  accuser — denouncer,  or  an 
ambassador  of  peace  and  good  will  ?" 

"  The  latter,  sir,  is  my  self-constituted  mission,"  said  the 
reverend  gentleman. 

"Then,"  said  Rhapsody,  "I  am  ready  to  make  all  neces 
sary  concessions — a  clean  breast  of  it,  you  may  say.  I  am 
in  a  false  position— struggling  against  public  opinion — 
false  pride — falsely,  and  yet  honestly,  working  my  way 
through  the  world.  I  am  no  more  nor  less,  nominally, 
than  Jones,  the  boot-maker.  Now,"  continued  Rhapsody, 
"if  a  false  purpose  covers  not  a  false  heart  also,  I  can  yet 
be  happy  in  the  affections  of  Miss  Somebody,  and  she  in 
mine.  For  those  who  can  battle  as  we  have,  against  the 
common  chances  of  indigence,  upright  and  alone  in  our  in 
tegrity,  may  surely  yet  win  greater  rewards  by  mutual  con 
solation  and  support,  our  fortunes  joined." 

"I  have  not  been  mistaken,  then,  sir,"  said  the  reverend 
gentleman,  "  in  your  character,  if  I  was  in  your  occupation ; 
and  you  may  rely  upon  my  friendly  service  in  an  amicable 
and  definite  arrangement  of  this  very  delicate  matter." 
*  ***** 

When  General  Harrison  took  the  "chair  of  state,"  our 
friend  Rhapsody  was  reinstated  in  his  place,  occupied  years 
before,  and  by  fortuitous  circumstances  he  got  still  higher— 
an  appointment  of  trust  connected  with  a  handsome  salary; 
so  that  Jones,  the  boot-maker,  was  enabled  to  re-enter  the 
Somebodies  into  the  gay  and  fluctuating  society  at  the 


408  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

national  capital,  from  which  they  had  been  so  unceremoni 
ously  driven  by  the  death  of  the  husband  and  father.  Mrs. 
Somebody,  that  was,  however,  is  now  a  much  older  and 
much  wiser  person,  the  wife  of  our  ministerial  friend,  who 
vouches  the  difficulty  he  had  in  overcoming  Mrs.  Some 
body's  repugnance  to  leather — and  for  sundry  quibbles — 
yea,  strong  arguments  against  any  blood  of  hers  ever  uniting 
with  the  fates  and  fortunes  of  a  boot-maker ;  with  what 
propriety,  her  experience  has  long  since  taught  her.  Alice 
is  the  happiest  of  women,  mother  of  many  fine  children, 
the  wife  of  a  man  poverty  could  not  corrupt,  if  public 
opinion  forced  him  to  mask  the  means  that  gave  him  bread. 
Rhapsody  is  no  longer  a  politician,  or  office-holder,  but  en 
gaged  in  lucrative  pursuits  that  yield  comfort  and  position 
in  society.  To  relate  the  trials,  courtship  and  marriage  of 
"Jones,  the  boot-maker,"  is  one  of  our  friend  Rhapsody's 
standing  jokes,  to  friends  at  the  fireside  and  dinner  table; 
but  that  such  a  safe  and  happy  tableau  would  again  befall 
parties  so  circumstanced,  is  a  very  material  question  ;  and 
the  moral  of  our  story,  being  rather  complex,  though  very 
definite,  we  leave  to  society,  and  you,  reader,  to  determine. 


it  £ 

A  GENTLEMAN  from  " out  'town,"  came  into  Redding  & 
Co.'s  on  Christmas  day,  and  leaning  thoughtfully  over  the 
counter,  says  he  to  Prescott,  "Got  any  Psalms  here?" 

"N-n-no,"  says  Prescott,  reflectingly,  "but,"  he  con 
tinued,  after  a  moment's  pause,  and  handing  down  a  copy  of 
Hood,  "  here's  plenty  of  old  Joe's  !" 

The  out-of-town  gentleman  gave  a  glance  at  the  pictures, 
and  with  a  countenance  indicative  of  having  been  tasting  a. 
crab-apple — left ! 


IJersimmons. 


I  REMEMBER  an  old  "Joke"  told  me  by  my  father,  of 
an  old,  and  rather  addle-headed  gentleman,  who  some 
fifty  years  ago  did  business  in  New  Castle,  Delaware,  and 
having  occasion  to  send  out  to  England  for  hardware,  wrote 
his  order,  and  as  he  was  about  to  despatch  it  to  the  captain 
of  the  ship,  lying  in  the  stream,  ready  for  sea,  a  neighbor 
got  him  to  add  an  order  for  some  kegs  of  nails,  and  in  the 
hurry,  the  old  man  dashed  off  his  P.  S.,  but  upon  attempt 
ing  to  read  the  whole  order  over,  he  couldn't  make  head  or 
tail  of  it. 

''Well,"  says  he,  in  a  flurry,  "I'll  send  it,  just  as  it  is  ; 
they  are  better  scholars  in  England  than  I  am  —  they'll  make 
it  out." 

Strange  enough  to  say,  when  the  hardware  came  over, 
among  the  rest  of  the  stuff  were  the  so  many  kegs  of  nails, 
but  upon  opening  one  of  these  kegs,  it  was  full,  or  nearly  so, 
of  Amercian  quarter  dollars.  The  old  man  roared  out  in  a 

"  Haw  !  haw  !  haw  !  Well,  blast  me,"  says  he,  "  if  they 
ain't  scholars,  fust-rate  scholars,  in  England  ;  it's  worth 
while  sending  'em  bad  manuscript."1' 

A  still  more  comical  mistake  is  related  to  us,  of  a  com 
mercial  transaction  that  actually  took  place  within  a  year 
or  two,  between  parties  severally  situated  in  Boston  and 
the  city  of  San  Francisco,  California.  As  we  consider  the 
whole  transaction  rather  rich,  we  transcribe  it  for  the 
diversion  it  may  furnish. 

Simmons,  the  "Oak  Hall"  man,  of  Boston,  had  set  up  a 
shop  in  San  Francisco,  to  which  he  was  almost  daily  send 
ing  all  sorts  of  cheap  clothing,  and  making,  on  the  same, 

(409) 


410  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

more  money  than  a  horse  could  pull ;  and  in  his  package, 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  sending  articles  for  friends,  &c.  A 
gentleman  recently  gone  to  the  gold  country,  from  Boston, 
acquainted  with  Simmons,  and  Simmons  with  him,  found, 
upon  looking  around  San  Francisco,  that  his  own  business, 
lawing,  wasn't  worth  two  cents,  as  many  of  his  craft  were 
turning  their  attention  to  matters  more  useful  to  the  human 
family — digging  cellars,  wheeling  baggage,  driving  teams, 
&c.  So  lawyer  Bunker  turned  his  attention  from  Black- 
stone,  Chitty,  Coke  on  Littleton,  and  those  fellows  of  deep- 
red,  blue-black  law,  to  the  manufacture  of  quack  nostrums. 
Bunker  found  that  the  great  appetite  we  Yankees  have  for 
quack  medicines,  pills  and  powders,  suffered  no  diminution 
in  the  gold  country  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  appetite  became 
rather  sharpened  for  those  luxuries,  and  Bunker  found  that 
a  New  York  butcher,  with  whom  he  became  acquainted, 
was  absolutely  making  his  fortune,  by  the  manufacture  of 
dough  pills,  spiced  with  coriander,  and  a  slight  tincture  of 
calomel. 

"  Egad!"  says  Bunker,  "  Pll  go  into  medicine.  I'll  write 
to  a  friend  in  Boston,  to  send  me  out  a  few  medicine  and 
receipt  books,  and  a  lot  of  pulverized  liquorice,  quinine, 
&c.,  with  a  pill  machine,  and  I  guess  I'll  be  after  my  New 
York  butchering  friend  in  a  double  brace  of  shakes." 

Now,  it  may  be  premised  that  as  Bunker  was  a  lawyer,  he 
wrote  a  first-rate  hand  ;  in  fact,  he  might  have  bragged  of 
being  able  to  equal,  if  not  surpass,  the  "Hon."  Rufus 
Choate,  whose  scrawl  more  resembles  the  scratchings  of  a 
poor  half-drowned  in  an  ink-saucer  spider,  meandering  over 
foolscap,  than  quill-driving,  and  as  unintelligible  as  the 
marks  of  a  tea-box  or  hieroglyphics  on  the  sarcophagus  of 
ye  ancient  Egyptians  !  In  short,  Counsellor  Bunker's  manu 
script  was  awful ;  a  few  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  only, 
pretending  to  have  the  hang  of  it  at  all ;  and  to  one  of  these 
friends,  Bunker  directs  his  message,  transmits  it  by  Uncle 


PILLS   AND    PEKSIMMONS.  411 

Sam's  mail  poche,  and  in  fever  heat  he  awaits  the  return 
of  the  precious  combustibles  that  were  to  make  his  fortune. 
In  course  of  time,  Bunker's  friends  receive  the  order,  but, 
alas !  it  was  all  Greek  to  them  ;  they  cyphered  in  vain,  to 
make  out  any  thing  in  the  letters  except  persimmons. 

"What  the  deuce,"  says  one  of  Bunker's  friends,  "does 
Joe  want  with  persimmons  ?" 

They  went  at  it  again,  and  again,  but  there  was  no  mis 
taking  the  final  sentence,  "send,  without  delay,  persimmons." 
"  Persimmons  ?"  said  one. 
"Persimmons?"  echoed  another. 

"Persimmons  ?    What  in  thunder  does  Joe  Banker  want 
with  persimmons  ?"  responded  a  third. 
"Persimmons  !"  all  three  chimed. 

"Persimmons,"  says  one,  "are  not  used  in  law  proceed 
ings,  anyhow." 

"  Nor  in  gospel,  even,  provided  Joe  has  got  into  that," 
responded  another. 

"Persimmons  are  not  medicinal." 
"  They  are  not  chemical." 

"Persimmons  are  no  part,  or  ingredient,  in  art,  science, 
Jaw,  or  religion ;  now,  for  what  does  Joe  Bunker,  counsel 
lor  at  law,  want  us  to  forward,  without  delay,  persim 
mons  ?" 

Well,  they  couldn't  tell ;  in  vain  they  reasoned.  Joe's 
letter  was  very  brief,  strictly  to  the  point,  and  that  point 
was— persimmons!  In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  everybody 
that  knows  exactly  what  persimmons  are,  where  they  come 
from,  and  what  they  are  good  for.  One  of  Bunker's  friends 
had  lived  in  the  South  ;  he  knew  persimmons;  it  occurred 
to  him  that  possums,  and  some  human  beings,  especially  the 
colored  pop'lation,  were  the  only  critters  particularly  fond  of 
the  fruit.  Webster  was  consulted,  to  see  what  light  he  cast 
upon  the  matter:  he  informed  them  that  "  Persimmon  was 
a  tree,  and  its  fruit,  a  species  of  Diospyros,  a  native  of  the 


412  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

States  south  of  New  York.  Fruit  like  a  plum,  and  when 
not  ripe,  very  hard  and  astringent  (rather  so),  but  when  ripe, 
luscious  and  highly  nutritious." 

"  Well,  there,"  said  one  of  Bunker's  friends,  "  I'll  bet 
Joe's  sick ;  persimmons  have  been  prescribed  for  his  cure, 
and  the  sooner  we  send  the  persimmons  the  better !" 

"Persimmons!  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,"  says  the 
man  who  had  a  faint  idea  of  what  persimmons  were,  "  they 
make  beer,  first-rate  beer  of  persimmons,  in  the  South,  and 
it's  my  opinion,  that  Joe  Bunker  is  going  into  persimmon 
beer  business  ;  as  you  say,  he  may  be  sick— persimmon  beer 
may  be  the  California  cure-all ;  in  either  case,  let  us  forward 
the  persimmons  without  delay  !" 

Now  persimmons  never  ripen  until  touched  pretty  smartly 
with  Jack  Frost.  This  was  in  September;  persimmons 
were  mostly  full  grown,  but  not  ripe.  A  large  keg  of  them 
was  ordered  from  Jersey,  and  as  fast  as  Adams  &  Co.'s 
great  Express  to  San  Francisco  could  take  them  out,  the 
persimmons  went ! 

Counsellor  Bunker,  relying  upon  his  friends  to  forward 
without  delay  the  tools  and  remedial  agents  to  make  his 
fortune  in  the  pill  business,  went  to  work,  got  him  an  office, 
changed  his  name,  and  added  an  M.  D.  to  it,  had  a  sign 
painted,  advertised  his  shop,  and  informed  the  public  that 
on  such  a  time  he  would  open,  and  guarantee  to  cure  all 
ills,  from  lubago  to  liver  complaint,  from  toothache  to  lock 
jaw,  spring  fever  to  yaller  janders,  and  in  his  enthusiasm, 
he  sat  down  with  a  ream  of  paper,  to  count  up  the  profits, 
and  calculate  the  time  it  would  take  to  get  his  pile  of  gold 
dust  and  start  for  home. 

The  day  arrived  that  Doctor  Phlebotonizem  was  to  open, 
and  he  found  customers  began  to  call,  and  sure  enough,  in 
comes  a  large  keg,  direct  through  from  the  States,  to  his 
address  ;  the  freight  bill  on  it  was  pretty  considerable,  but 
Joe  out  and  paid  it,  rejoicing  to  think  that  now  he  was  all 


PILLS   AND   PERSIMMONS.  413 

right,  and  that  if  the  proprietors  of  gold  dust  and  the  lum 
bago,  or  any  of  the  various  ills  set  forth  in  his  catalogue  of 
human  woes,  had  spare  change,  he  would  soon  find  them  out. 
He  closed  his  door,  opened  his  cask — 

"What  in  the  name  of  everlasting  sin  and  misery  is  this  ?" 
was  the  first  burst,  upon  feeling  the  fine  saw  dust,  and 
seeing,  nicely  packed,  the  green  and  purple,  round  and 
glossy — he  couldn't  tell  what. 

"Pills?  No,  good  gracious,  they  can't  be  pills — smell 
queer — some  mistake — can't  be  any  mistake — my  name  on 
the  cask — (tastes  one  of  the  '  article') — 0  !  by  thunder  I 
(tastes  again) — I'm  blasted,  they  (tastes  again)  are,  by  Jove, 
persimmons !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ho  !  ho  !  he  !  he  I 
ha!  ha!  ha!" 

And  the  ex-counsellor  of  modern  law  roared  until  he  grew 
livid  in  the  face. 

"I  see — ha!  ha  I  I  see  ;  they  have  misunderstood  every 
line  I  wrote  them,  except  the  last,  and  that — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — 
for  my  direction  to  send  out  my  stuff  per  Simmons,  they 
send  me  PERSIMMONS  !  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  ho  !  ho  !" 

But,  after  enjoying  the  fun  of  the  matter,  ex-counsellor 
Bunker  discovered  the  thing  was  nothing  to  laugh  at ; 
patients  were  at  the  door — if  he  did  not  soon  prescribe  for 
their  cases,  his  now  numerous  creditors  would  prescribe  for 
him !  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Yery  dull  and  prosy  people 
often  become  enterprising  and  imaginative,  to  a  wonderful 
degree,  when  put  to  their  trumps.  This  philosophical  fact 
applied  to  ex-counsellor  Bunker's  case  exactly.  He  was 
there  to  better  his  fortune,  and  he  felt  bound  to  do  it,  per 
simmons  or  no  persimmons.  It  occurred  to  him,  as  those 
infernal  persimmons  had  cost  him  something,  they  ought 
to  bring  in  something.  By  the  aid  of  starch  and  sugar, 
Doctor  Phlebotonizem  converted  some  hundreds  of  the 
smallest  persimmons  into  pills — sugar-coated  pills — war 
ranted  to  cure  about  all  the  ills  flesh  was  heir  to,  at 


414  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

$2  each  dose.  One  generally  constituted  a  dose  for  a  fall- 
grown  person,  and  as  the  patient  left  with  a  countenance 
much  "  puckered  up,"  and  rarely  returned,  the  psuedo  M. 
D.  concluded  there  was  virtue  in  persimmon  pills,  and  so, 
after  disposing  of  his  stock  to  first-rate  advantage,  the 
doctor  paid  off  his  bills ;  tired  of  the  pill  trade,  he  vamosed 
the  ranche  with  about  funds  enough  to  reach  home,  and 
explain  to  his  friends  the  difference  between  per  Simmons 
&ud  persimmons  f 


es  ani  Hjjismw  jof  ttje  fife  0f  a  Ciij  <£bit0r. 


A  GREAT  deal  has  been  written,  to  show  that  the  literary 
business  is  a  very  disagreeable  business  ;  and  that  branch 
of  it  coming  under  the  "  Editorial"  head  is  about  as  com 
fortable  as  the  bed  of  Procustes  would  be  to  an  invalid.  It 
may  doubtless  look  and  sound  well,  to  see  one's  name  in 
print,  going  the  rounds,  especially  at  the  head  of  the  edi 
torial  columns,  from  ten  to  fifty  thousand  eyes  and  tongues 
scanning  and  pronouncing  it  every  day,  or  week  —  hundreds 
and  thousands  of  the  fair  sex  wondering  whether  he  is  a 
young  or  an  old  man,  a  married  man  or  a  bachelor  ;  while 
the  pious  and  devout  are  contemplating  the  serious  of 
his  emanations,  and  conjecturing  whether  he  be  a  Metho 
dist,  Puseyite,  or  Catholic,  a  Presbyterian,  Unitarian  or 
Baptist  ;  and  the  politicians  scanning  his  views,  to  discover 
whether  he  leans  toward  the  Locofocos,  Free-Soilers,  or 
Whigs  —  all  being  necessarily  much  mystified,  inasmuch  as 
the  neutral  writer,  or  editor,  is  obliged  to  study,  and  most 
vigilantly  to  act,  the  part  of  a  cunning  diplomatist  —  stroke 
every  body's  hair  with  the  grain! 


Clje  CrMations  of 


A  GENTLEMAN  by  the  name  of  Collins  stopping 
with  you?" 

"  Collins  ?"  was  the  response. 

"  Yes,  Collins,  or  Collings,  I  ain't  sure  which,"  said  the 
hardy-looking,  bronzed  seaman,  to  the  gaily-dressed,  flip 
pant-mannered,  be-whiskered  man  of  vast  importance,  presid 
ing  over  the  affairs  of  one  of  our  "first-class  hotels." 

"  Very  indefinite  inquiry,  then,"  said  the  hotel  manager. 

"  Well,  I  brought  this  small  package  from  Bremen  for  a 
gentleman  who  came  out  passenger  with  us  some  time  ago  ; 
he  left  it  in  Bremen  —  wanted  me  to  fetch  it  out  when  the 
ship  returned  —  here  it  is." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  leave  it  here  for  ?  We  know 
nothing  about  the  man,  sir." 

"  You  don't  ?  Well,  you  ought  to,  for  the  gentleman  put 
up  here,  and  told  me  he'd  be  around  when  we  got  into  port 
again.  He  was  a  deuced  clever  fellow,  and  you  ought  to 
have  kept  the  reckoning  of  such  a  man,"  said  the  seaman. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  we  keep  so  many  clevej  fellows,"  said  he  of 
the  hotel,  "  that  they  are  no  novelties,  sir." 

"  I  wonder  then,"  said  the  seaman,  "you  do  not  imitate 
some  of  them,  for  there's  no  danger  of  the  world's  getting 
crowded  with  a  crew  of  good  men." 

"  If  you  have  any  business  with  us  we  shall  attend  to  it, 
sir,  but  we  want  none  of  your  impertinence  !" 

"  O,  you  don't  ?  Well,  Mister,  I've  business  aboard  of 
your  craft;  if  you're  the  commodore,  I'd  like  you  to  see  that 
my  friend  Collins  is  piped  up,  or  that  this  package  be  stowed 
away  where  he  could  come  afoul  of  it.  His  name  is  Collins  ; 

(415) 


416  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

here  it  is  in  black  and  white,  on  the  parcel,  and  here's 
where  I  was  to  drop  it." 

One  of  the  "  understrappers"  overhearing  the  dispute, 
whispered  his  dignified  superior  that  Mr.  Collins,  an  English 
gentleman,  late  from  Bremen,  was  in  the  house,  whereupon 
the  dignified  empressario,  turning  to  the  self-possessed  man 
of  the  sea,  said — 

"  Ah,  well,  leave  the  parcel,  leave  the  parcel ;  we  sup 
pose  it's  correct.  " 

"  There  it  is,"  said  the  seaman  ;  "commodore,  you  see 
that  the  gentleman  gets  it;  and  I  say,"  says  the  sailor, 
pushing  back  his  hat  and  giving  his  breeches  a  regular 
sailor  twitch,  "  I  wish  you'd  please  to  say  to  the  gentleman, 
Mr.  Collins,  you  know,  that  Mr.  Brace,  first  oflficer  of  the 
Triton,  would  like  to  see  him  aboard,  any  time  he's  at 
leisure." 

But  in  the  multiplicity  of  greater  affairs,  the  hotel  gentle 
man  hardly  attempted  to  listen  or  attend  to  the  sailor's 
message,  and  Mr.  Brace,  first  officer  of  the  Triton,  bore 
away,  muttering  to  himself — 

"  These  land-crabs  mighty  apt  to  put  on  airs.     I'd  like 

to  have  that  powder  monkey  in  my  watch  about  a  week 

I'd  have  him  down  by  the  lifts  and  braces  !" 

Let  us  suppose  it  to  be  in  the  glorious  month  of  October, 
when  the  myriads  of  travellers  by  land  and  ocean  are  wend 
ing  their  way  from  the  chilly  north  towards  the  sunny  south, 
when  the  invalid  seeks  the  tropics  in  pursuit  of  his  health, 
and  the  speculative  man  of  business  returns  with  his  "in 
voices,"  to  his  shop,  or  factory,  where  profit  leads  the  way. 
We  are  on  board  ship — the  Triton  ploughing  the  deep 
blue  waters  of  the  ocean  track  from  Sandy  Hook  to  New 
Orleans;  for  October,, the  weather  is  rather  unruly,  damp, 
and  boisterous.  We  perceive  a  number  of  passengers 
on  board,  and  by  near  guess  of  our  memory,  we  see  a  person 
or  two  we  have  seen  before.  Our  be-whiskered  friend  of  the 


THE   TRIBULATIONS    OF    INCIVILITY.  417 

"  first-class  hotel,"  is  there ;  he  does  not  look  so  self-pos 
sessed  and  pompous  on  board  the  heaving  and  tossing  ship 
as  he  did  behind  his  marble  slab  in  "the  office."  "The 
sea,  the  sea!"  as  the  song  says,  has  quite  taken  the  starch 
out  of  our  stiff  friend,  who  is  not  enjoying  a  first-rate  time. 
And  from  an  overheard  conversation  between  two  hardy, 
noble  specimens  of  men  that  are  men — two  officers  of  the 
stoutly-timbered  ship,  the  comfort  of  the  be-whiskered  gentle 
man  is  in  danger  of  a  commutation. 

"  Do  you  know  him,  Mr.  Brace  ?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him  ;  I  knew  him  as  soon  as  I  got  the  cut 
of  his  jib  coming  aboard.  Now,  says  I,  my  larky,  you  and 
I've  got  to  travel  together,  and  we'll  settle  a  little  odd 
reckoning,  if  you  please,  or  if  you  don't  please,  afore  we  see 
the  Balize.  You  see,  that  fellow  keeps  a  crack  hotel  in 
York ;  I  goes  in  there  to  deliver  a  package  for  a  deuced 
good  fellow  as  ever  trod  deck,  and  this  powder  monkey, 
loblolly-looking  swab,  puts  on  his  airs,  sticks  up  his  nose, 
and  hardly  condescends  to  exchange  signals  with  me.  Ha  ! 
ha !  I've  met  these  galore  cocks  before  ;  I  can  take  the  tail 
feathers  out  of  'era!"  says  Mr.  Brace,  who  is  the  same 
hardy,  frank  and  free  fellow,  with  whom  the  reader  has  al 
ready  formed  something  of  a  brief  acquaintance.  The  per 
son  to  whom  Brace  was  addressing  himself  was  the  second 
officer  of  the  merchantman,  and  it  was  settled  that  what 
ever  nautical  knowledge  and  skill  could  do  to  make  things 
uneasy  for  Mr.  Lollypops,  the  empressario  of  the  "  first- 
class  hotel,"  was  to  be  done,  by  mutual  management  of  the 
two  salt-water  jokers. 

"It  appears  to  me,  that  a — bless  me,  sir,  a — how  this 
ship  rolls  !"  said  Lollypops,  coming  upon  deck,  .and  ad 
dressing  Mr.  Brace;  "  I — a  never  saw  a  ship  roll  so." 

"Heavy   sea  on,   sir,"  said  Brace;  "nothing  to  what 
we'll  catch  before  a  week's  out." 
26 


418  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGK. 

I 

"Bad  coast,  I  believe,  at  this  time  o'  year?"  said  Lolly- 
pops,  balancing  himself  on  first  one  leg  and  then  the  other. 

"  Worst  coast  in  the  world,  sir  ;  I'd  rather  go  to  Calcutta 
any  time  than  go  to  Orleans ;  more  vessels  lost  on  the  coast 
than  are  lost  anywhere  else  on  the  four  seas." 

"You  don't  say  so  !"  said  Lollypops. 

"  Fact,  sir,"  said  Brace,  who  occasionally  kept  exchang 
ing  private  and  mysterious  signals  with  the  second  officer, 
who  held  the  wheel. 

"Let  her  up  a  point,  Mr.  Brown,  let  her  up  !"  Mr. 
Brown  did  let  her  up,  and  the  way  the  Triton  took  head 
down  and  heels  up  and  a  roll  to  windward,  did  not  speak 
so  well  for  the  nautical  menage  of  the  officers  as  it  did  for 
the  quiet  deviltry  of  the  salt-water  Joe  Millers.  The 
avalanche  of  brine  inundated  the  decks,  making  the  sailors 
look  quite  asquirt,  and  driving  Mr.  Lollypops,  an  ancient 
voyager  or  two,  and  sundry  other  travelling  gentry — very 
suddenly  into  the  cabin.  The  next  day  the  same  perform 
ance  followed;  the  appearance  of  Lollypops  on  deck  was  a 
signal  for  Brace  or  Brown,  to  go  in,  get  up  a  double  roll 
on  the  ship,  an  imaginary  gale  was  discussed,  wrecks  and 
reefs,  dangerous  points  and  dreadful  currents  were  descanted 
upon,  until  Mr.  Lollypops'  health,  at  the  end  of  the  first 
week,  was  no  better  fast;  in  fact,  he  was  getting  sick  of  the 
voyage,  while  others  around  grew  fat  upon  it.  A  fine 
morning  induced  the  invalid  to  light  his  regalia  and  walk 
the  decks ;  immediately  Mr.  Brace,  or  Brown,  gave  orders 
to  wash  down  the  decks.  Mr.  Lollypops  went  aloft,  ergo, 
as  far  as  the  main  top  ;  immediately  the  first  officer  had  the 
men  "going  about,"  heaving  here  and  letting  go  there ;  in 
short,  so  endangering  the  hat  and  underpinning  of  the 
be-whiskcred  landlord  of  the  "  first-class  hotel"  that  he  was 
fain  to  crawl  down,  take  the  wet  decks,  tip-toe,  and  crawl 
into  the  cabin,  damp  as  a  dishcloth,  and  utterly  disgusted 
with  what  he  had  seen  of  the  sea !  Acculent%\]y,  one 


THE    TRIBULATIONS    OF    INCIVILITY.  419 

afternoon,  a  tar  pot  fell  from  aloft ;  some  how  or  other,  the 
careless  sailor  who  held  it,  or  should  have  held  it — "  let  go 
all"  just  when  Mr.  Lollypops  was  in  the  immediate  neigh 
borhood  ;  the  result  was  that  he  had  a  splendid  dressing- 
gown  and  other  equipments — ruined  eternally  !  Going  into 
the  cabin,  Lollypops  inquires  for  the  Captain — 

"  Sir!"  says  he,  "I  am  mad,  Sir,  very  mad,  Sir;  yes,  I  am, 
Sir;  look  at  me,  only  look  at  me !  In  rough  weather  we  do 
not  expect  pleasant  times  at  sea,  but,  Sir,  ever  since  I  have 
been  on  board,  Sir,  your  infernal  officers,  Sir,  have  thrown 
this  ship  into  all  manner  of  unpleasant  situations,  kept  the 
decks  wet,  rattled  chains  over  my  berth,  wang-banged  the 
rigging  around,  and  finally,  by  thunder,  I'm  covered  all 
over  with  villanous  soap  fat  and  tar !  Now,  Sir,  this  is  not 
all  the  result  of  accident — it's  premeditated  rascality  !" 

"  Sir" — says  the  bully  mate,  coming  forward,  at  this  crisis, 
"  my  name's  Mr.  Brace  ;  when  I  was  aboard  your  craft,  in 
New  York,  you  rather  put  on  airs,  and  I  said  if  you  and  I 
ever  got  to  sea  together — we'd  have  a  blow  out.  Now  we're 
about  even  ;  if  you're  a  mind  we'll  call  the  matter  square — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  for  heaven's  sake,  let  us  have  no  more  of  this  I" 
says  Lollypops. 

"We'll  have  a  bottle  together,  and  wish  for  a  clean  run 
to  Orleans  !"  continued  officer  Brace. 

Lollypops  agreed ;  he  not  only  stood  the  wine,  but  got 
over  his  anger,  vowed  to  look  deeper  into  character,  and 
never  again  rebuff  honest  manliness,  though  hid  under  the 
coarse  costume  of  a  son  of  Neptune  !  A  hearty  laugh 
closed  the  scene,  and  fair  weather  and  a  fine  termination 
attended  the  voyage  of  the  Triton  to  New  Orleans  ;  for 
a  finer,  drier  craft  never  danced  over  the  ocean  wave,  than 
that  good  ship,  under  rational  management. 


MARRY  in  haste  and  repent  at  leisure,"  is  a  time- 
honored  idea,  and  calls  to  mind  a  matrimonial  circum 
stance  which,  according  to  pretty  lively  authority,  once 
came  about  in  the  glorious  Empire  State.  A  certain  Cap 
tain  of  a  Lake  Erie  steamer,  who  was  blessed  with  an  ele 
gant  temperament  for  fun,  fashion,  and  the  feminines,  was 
"  laid  up,"  over  winter,  near  his  childhood's  home  in  Genesee 
county.  Having  nearly  exhausted  his  private  stock  of 
jokes,  and  gone  the  entire  rounds  of  life  and  liveliness  of 
the  season,  he  bethought  him  how  he  should  create  a  little 
sfa'r,  and  have  his  joke  at  the  expense  of  a  young  Doctor, 
who  had  recently  "  located"  in  the  neighborhood,  and  by 
his  rather  taking  person  and  manners,  cut  something  of  a 
swath  in  the  community,  and  especially  amongst  the  calico  ! 

The  profession  of  young  Esculapius  gave  him  an  access 
to  private  society  that  ordinary  circumstances  did  not  vouch 
to  most  men.  Among  the  many  families  with  which  Dr. 
Mutandis  had  formed  an  acquaintance  was  that  of  old  Capt. 
Piggies.  The  Captain  was  a  queer  old  mortal,  who  in  his 
hale  old  days  had  quit  life  on  the  ocean  wave  for  the  quiet 
ude  of  agricultural  comfort.  The  Captain  was  a  blustering 
salt,  whimsical,  but  generous  and  social,  as  old  sailors  most 
generally  are.  He  was  supposed  to  be  in  easy  circumstances, 
but  how  easy,  very  few  knew. 

Capt.  Figgles's  family  consisted  of  himself,  three  daugh 
ters,  one  married  and  "settled,"  the  other  two  at  home ;  an 
ancient  colored  woman,  who  had  served  in  the  Captain's 
family, — ship  and  shore — a  lifetime.  Dinah  and  old  Sam, 
her  husband,  with  two  or  three  farm-laborers,  constituted 
(420) 


THE    BROOMSTICK   MARRIAGE.  421 

the  Captain's  household.  Betsy,  the  youngest  daughter, 
the  old  man's  favorite,  had  been  christened  Elizabeth,  but 
that  not  being  warm  enough  for  Capt.  Figgles's  idea  of 
attachment,  he  ever  called  his  daughter,  Betsy,  and  so  she 
was  called  by  almost  everybody  at  all  familiar  with  the 
family.  Betsy  Figgles  was  not  a  very  poetical  subject,  by 
name  or  size.  She  was  a  fine,  bouncing  young  woman  of 
four-and-twenty ;  she  was  dutiful  and  bountiful,  if  not  beau 
tiful.  She  was  useful,  and  even  ornamental  in  her  old 
father's  eyes,  and,  as  he  was  wont  to  say,  in  his  never-to-be- 
forgotten  salt-water  linguce — 

"  Betsy  was  a  craft,  she  was ;  a  square-bilt,  trim,  well- 
ballasted  craft,  fore  and  aft ;  none  of  your  sky-scraping,  taut, 
Baltimore  clipper,  fair-weather,  no-tonnage  jigamarees  ! 
Betsy  is  a  woman;  her  mother  was  just  like  her  when  I  fell 
in  with  her,  and  it  wasn't  long  afore  I  chartered  her  for  a 
life's  voyage.  And  the  man  who  lets  such  a  woman  slip  her 
cable  and  stand  off  soundings,  for  '  Cowes  and  a  market,' 
when  he's  got  a  chance  to  fill  out  her  papers  and  take  com 
mand,  is  not  a  man,  but  a  mouse,  or  a  long-tailed  Jamaica 
rat !" 

Between  Capt.  Tiller,  our  Lake  boatman,  and  Capt. 
Figgles,  there  was  an  intimacy  of  some  years'  standing,  but 
the  old  Captain  and  the  young  Captain  didn't  exactly  "  hitch 
horses" — whether  it  was  because  Capt.  T.  came  under  the 
old  man's  idea  of  "a  Jamaica  rat,"  or  because  he  looked 
upon  inland  sailors  as  greenhorns,  deponent  saith  not. 

Dr.  Mutandis  and  Capt.  Figgles  were  only  upon  so-so 
sort  of  business  sociality,  though  both  the  junior  Captain 
and  the  Doctor  were  intimate  enough  with  both  the  Miss 
Figgleses.  Capt.  Tiller,  as  we  intimated,  was  about  to 
leave  for  coming  duties  on  the  Lake,  and  being  so  full  of 
old  Nick,  it  was  indispensable  that  he  must  play  off  a  prac 
tical  joke,  or  have  some  fun  with  somebody,  as  a  sort  of  a 
yarn  for  the  season,  on  his  boat. 


422  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

The  Figgleses  announced  a  grand  quilting  scrape  ;  the 
Doctor  and  Captain  were  among  the  invited  guests,  of 
course,  and  for  some  hours  the  assembled  party  had  indeed 
as  grand  a  good  time  generally  as  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of 
a  country  community.  Old  black  Ebenezer — but  whose 
name  had  also  been  cut  down  for  convenience  sake  to  Sam, 
by  the  old  Captain' — did  the  orchestral  duties  upon  his  fiddle, 
which,  aided  by  a  youngster  on  the  triangle  and  another  on 
the  tambourine,  formed  quite  "  a  full  band"  for  the  occasion, 
and  dancing  was  done  up  in  style  ! 

As  a  sort  of  "change  of  scene"  or  divertisement  in  the 
programme,  somebody  proposed  games  of  this  and  games  of 
that,  and  while  old  Capt.  Figgles  was  as  busy  as  "  a  flea  in 
a  tar  bucket" — to  use  the  old  gentleman's  simile — fulmina 
ting  and  fabricating  a  rousing  bowl  of  egg  flip  for  the  entire 
party,  Capt.  Tiller  and  Dr.  Mutandis  were  sort  of  paired 
off  with  a  party  of  eight,  in  which  were  the  two  Miss 
Figgleses,  to  get  up  their  own  game. 

"Good!"  says  Capt.  Tiller,  "pair  off  with  Miss  Betsy, 
Doctor,  and  I'll  pair  off  with  Miss  Sally  (the  older  daughter 
of  Capt.  F.),  and  now  what  say  you  ?  Let's  make  up  a  wed 
ding-party — leVsjump  the  broomstick!" 

"  Agreed  !"  cries  the  Doctor.    '"  Who'll  be  the  parson  ?" 

"  I'll  be  parson,"  says  Capt.  T. 

"Well,  get  your  book." 

"Here  it  is!"  cries  another,  poking  a  specimen  of 
current  Scripture  into  the  pseudo  parson's  hands. 

"  Miss  Betsy  and  Dr.  Mutandis,  stand  up,"  says  Capt. 
Tiller,  assuming  quite  the  air  and  grace  of  the  parson. 

Bridesmaids,  grooms,  &c.,  were  soon  arranged  in  due 
order,  and  the  interesting  ceremony  of  joining  hands  and 
hearts  in  one  happy  bond  of  mutual  and  indissoluble 
(slightly,  sometimes  !)  love  and  obedience  was  progressing. 

"Cap'n  Figgles,  you're  wanted,"  says  one,  interrupting 
the  old  man,  now  busy  concocting  his  grog  for  all  hands. 


THE    BROOMSTICK   MARRIAGE.  423 

"  Go  to  blazes,  you  son  of  a  sea  cook  I"  cries  the  old 
gentleman  ;  "  haven't  you  common  decency  to  see  when  a 
man's  engaged  in  a  calculation  he  oughtn't  to  be  disturbed, 
eh?" 

"  But  Betsy's  going  to  be  married  !"  insists  the  disturber, 
who,  in  fact,  was  half-seas  over  in  infatuation  with  Miss 
Betsy,  and  had  had  a  slight  inkling  of  a  fact  that  by  the 
law  of  the  State  anybody  could  marry  a  couple,  and  the 
marriage  would  be  as  obligatory  upon  the  parties  as  though 
performed  by  the  identical  legal  authorities  to  whom  young 
folks  "  in  a  bad  way"  are  in  the  habit  of  appealing  for 
relief. 

"  Let  'em  heave  ahead,  you  marine  !"  cries  Capt.  Figgles. 

"Are  you  really  willing  to  allow  it?"  continues  the 
swain. 

"  Me  willing  ?  It's  Betsy's  affair ;  let  her  keep  the  look 
out,"  said  the  old  gent. 

"  But  don't  you  know,  Cap'n " 

"  No  !  nor  I  don't  care,  you  swab  !"  cries  the  excited 
Captain.  "  Bear  away  out  of  here,"  he  continued,  begin 
ning  to  get  down  the  glasses  from  the  corner-cupboard 
shelves,  "  unless — but  stop  !  hold  on  !  here,  take  this  waiter, 
Jones,  and  bear  a  hand  with  the  grog,  tinless  you  want  to 
stand  by,  and  see  the  ship's  company  go  down  by  the  lifts 
and  braces,  dry  as  powder-monkeys  !  There  ;  now  pipe  all 
hands— ship  aho-o-o-oy  !"  bawls  the  old  Captain  ;  "bear  up, 
the  whole  fleet !  Now  splice  the  main-brace  !  Don't  no 
body  stand  back,  like  loblolly  boys  at  a  funeral— come  up 
and  try  Capt.  Figgles's  grog!" 

And  up  they  came,  the  entire  crew,  old  Ebenezer  to  the 
le'ard,  sweating  like  an  ox,  and  laying  off  for  the  piping 
bowl  he  knew  he  was  "  in  for"  from  the  hands  of  his  indul 
gent  old  master. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  marriage  ceremony  had  had  its  hour, 
and  the  bride  and  bridegroom  were  "  skylarking"  with  the 


424  HUMORS    OF    FALCONBRIDGE. 

rest  of  the  company  as  happily  tog-ether  as  turtle-doves  in  a 
clover-patch.  The  evening's  entertainment  wound  up  with 
an  old-fashioned  dance,  and  the  quilting  ended.  Dr.  Mu 
tandis  lived  some  five  miles  distant,  and  having  a  call  to 
make  the  next  morning  near  Capt.  Figgles's  farm,  Dr.  M. 
concluded  to  stop  with  the  Captain.  As  Capt.  Tiller  was 
leaving,  he  took  occasion  to  whisper  into  the  ear  of  his 
medical  friend — 

"  I  wish  you  much  joy,  my  fine  fellow ;  you're  married,  if 
you  did  but  know  it— fast  as  a  church  !  Good  time  to  you 
and  Betsy!" 

"  The  devil  1"  says  the  Doctor,  musingly ;  "it  strikes  me, 
since  I  come  to  think  it  over,  that  the  laws  of  this  State  do 
privilege  anybody  to  marry  a  couple  !  By  thunder !  it 
would  be  a  fine  spot  of  work  for  me  if  I  was  held  to  the 
ceremony  by  Miss  Figgles  !" 

But  the  Doctor  kept  quiet,  and  next  morning,  after  break 
fast,  he  departed  upon  his  business.  He  had  no  sooner 
entered  the  house  of  his  patient,  than  he  was  wished  much 
joy  and  congratulated  upon  the  fatness  and  jolly  good 
nature  of  his  bride  I 

"  But,"  says  the  Doctor,  "  you're  mistaken  in  this  affair. 
It's  all  a  hoax — a  mere  bit  of  fun  !" 

"  Ha !  ha!"  laughed  his  patient,  "fun  ?— you  call  getting 
married  fun  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Doctor;  "we  were  down  at  Capt.  Fig 
gles's  ;  there  was  a  quilting  and  sort  of  a  frolic  going  on " 

"Yes,  we  heard  of  it." 

"And,  in  fun,  to  keep  up  the  sports  of  the  evening,  Capt. 
Tiller  proposed  to  marry  some  of  us.  So  Miss  Figgles  and 
I  stood  up,  and  Captain  Tiller  acted  parson,  and  we  had 
some  sport." 

"Well,"  says  the  farmer  (proprietor  of  the  house), 
"  Capt.  Tiller  has  got  you  into  a  tight  place,  Doctor;  he's 
been  around,  laughing  at  the  trick  he's  played  you,  as  per- 


THE   BROOMSTICK   MARRIAGE.  425 

haps  you  were  not  aware  of  the  fact  that  by  the  law  you  are 
now  just  as  legally  and  surely  married  as  though  the  knot 
was  tied  by  five  dozen  parsons  or  magistrates  !" 

"I'll  shoot  Capt.  Tiller,  by  Heavens!"  cries  the  enraged 
Doctor.  "He's  a  scoundrel  I  I'll  crop  his  ears  but  I'll  have 
satisfaction  !" 

"  Pooh  !"  says  the  farmer,  "if  Betsy  Figgles  does  not  ob 
ject,  and  her  father  is  willing  and  satisfied  with  the  match 
as  it  is,  I  don't  see,  Doctor,  that  you  need  mind  the  matter." 

"  I'll  be  revenged  1"  cries  the  Doctor. 

"You  were  never  previously  married,  were  you?"  says 
the  farmer. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  Doctor. 

"Engaged  to  any  lady  ?"  continued  the  interrogator 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  am  too  poor,  too  busy  to  think  of  such  a  folly 
as  increasing  my  responsibilities  to  society  !" 

"Then,  sir,"  said  the  farmer,  "  allow  me  to  congratulate 
you  upon  this  very  fortunate  event,  rather  than  a  disagree 
able  joke,  for  Capt,  Figgles  is  worth  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
million  of  dollars,  sir  ;  and  Miss  Betsy  is  no  gaudy  butterfly, 
but,  sir,  she's  an  excellent  girl,  whom  you  may  be  proud  of 
as  your  wife." 

"'Squire,"  says  the  Doctor,  "jump  in  with  me,  and  go 
back  to  the  Captain's  and  assist  me  to  back  out,  beg  the 
pardon  of  Miss  Figgles  and  her  father,  and  terminate  this 
unpleasant  farce." 

The  magistrate-farmer  got  into  the  Doctor's  gig,  and  soon 
they  were  at  Capt.  Figgles's  door. 

"  Captain,"  says  the  Doctor,  "  I  don't  know  what  ex 
cuse  I  can  offer  for  the  fool  I've  made  of  myself,  through 
that  puppy,  Capt.  Tiller,  but,  sir — 

"  Look  a-here  I"  says  the  Captain,  staring  the  Doctor 
broad  in  the  face,  "I've  got  wind  of  the  whole  affair;  now 
ease  off  your  palaver.  You've  married  my  daughter  Betsy, 
in  a  joke;  she's  fit  for  the  wife  of  a  Commodore,  and  all 


426  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

I've  got  to  say  is,  if  you  want  her,  take  her ;  if  you  don't 
want  her,  you're  a  fool,  and  ought  to  be  made  a  powder- 
monkey  for  the  rest  of  your  natural  life." 

"  But  the  lady's  will  and*  wishes  have  not  been  consulted, 
sir." 

"Betsy  !"  cries  the  old  Captain,  "  come  here.  What  say 
you — are  you  willing  to  remain  spliced  with  the  Doctor,  or 
not  ?  Hold  up  your  head,  my  gal — speak  out !" 

"Yes — I'm  agreed,  if  he  is,"  said  she. 

"  Well  said,  hurrah  !"  cries  the  Captain.  "  Now,  sir  (to 
the  Doctor),  to  make  all  right  and  tight,  I  here  give  you, 
in  presence  of  the  'Squire,  my  favorite  daughter  Betsy, 
and  one  of  the  best  farms  in  the  State  of  New  York.  Are 
you  satisfied,  Doctor  ?" 

"  Captain,  I  am.  I  shall  try,  sir,  to  make  your  daughter 
a  happy  woman  1"  returned  the  Doctor,  and  he  did ;  he 
became  the  founder  of  a  large  family,  and  one  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  the  State. 

Rather  pleased,  finally,  with  the  joke,  the  Doctor  managed 
to  turn  it  upon  the  Captain,  who  in  due  course  of  law  was 
arrested  upon  the  charge  of  illegally  personating  a  parson, 
and  marrying  a  couple  without  a  license  !  He  was  fined 
fifty  dollars  and  costs  ;  and  of  course  was  thus  caused  to 
laugh  on  the  wrong  side  of  his  mouth. 


cttifful. 


THERE  are  a  great  many  good  jokes  told  of  the  false 
notions  formed  as  to  the  character  and  standing  of 
persons,  as  judged  by  their  dress  and  other  outward  signs. 
It  is  asserted,  that  a  fine  coat  and  silvery  tone  of  voice, 
are  no  evidence  of  the  gentleman,  and  few  people  of  the 
present  day  will  have  the  hardihood  to  assert  that  a  blunt 
address,  or  shabby  coat,  are  infallible  recommendations  for 
putting,  however  honest,  or  worthy,  a  man  in  a  prominent 
attitude  before  the  world,  or  the  community  he  moves  in. 
Some  men  of  wealth,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  sometimes  as 
sume  an  eccentric  or  coarseness  of  costume,  that  answers 
all  very  well,  as  long  as  they  keep  where  they  are  known  ; 
but  to  find  out  the  levelling  principles  of  utter  nothingness 
among  your  fellow  mortals,  only  assume  a  shabby  apparel 
and  stroll  out  among  strangers,  and  you'll  be  essentially 
knocked  by  the  force  of  these  facts.  However,  in  this  or 
almost  any  other  Christian  community,  there  is  little,  if  any 
excuse,  for  a  man,  woman,  or  child  going  about  or  being 
"shabby."  Let  your  garments,  however  coarse,  be  made 
clean  and  whole,  and  keep  them  so  ;  if  you  have  but  one 
shirt  and  that  minus  sleeves  and  body,  have  the  fragments 
washed,  and  make  not  your  face  and  hands  a  stranger  to  the 
refreshing  and  purifying  effects  of  water. 

General  Pinckney  was  one  of  the  old  school  gentlemen  of 
South  Carolina.  A  man  he  was  of  the  most  punctilious  pre 
cision  in  manners  and  customs,  in  courtesy,  and  cleanliness 
of  dress  and  person  ;  a  man  of  brilliant  talents,  and,  in 
every  sense  of  the  word,  "  a  perfect  gentleman  1"  Mr. 
Pinckney  was  one  of  the  members  of  the  first  Congress,  and 

(427) 


428  HUMORS    OF    FALCOXLRIDGE. 

during  his  sojourn  in  Philadelphia,  boarded  with  an  old 
lady  by  the  name  of  Hall,  I  think — Mrs.  Hall,  a  staid,  prim 
and  precise  dame  of  the  old  regime.  Mistress  Hall  was  a 
widow ;  she  kept  but  few  boarders  in  her  fine  old  mansion, 
on  Chestnut  street,  and  her  few  boarders  were  mostly  mem 
bers  of  Congress,  or  belonged  to  the  Continental  army, 
Never,  since  the  days  of  that  remarkable  lady  we  read  of  in 
the  books,  who  made  her  servant  take  her  chair  out  of  doors, 
arid  air  it,  if  any  body  by  chance  sat  down  on  it,  and  who 
was  known  to  empty  her  tea-kettle,  because  somebody  cross 
ed  the  hearth  during  the  operation  of  boiling  water  for  tea — 
exceeded  Mistress  Hall  in  domestic  prudery  and  etiquette  ; 
hence  it  may  be  well  imagined  that  "  shabby  people"  and  the 
"  small  fry"  generally,  found  little  or  no  favor  in  the  eyes  of 
the  Quaker  landlady  of  "  ye  olden  time." 

General  Pinckney  having  served  out  his  term  or  resigned 
his  place,  it  was  filled  by  another  noted  individual  of  Charles 
ton,  General  Lowndes,  one  of  the  most  courteous  and  tal 
ented  men  of  his  day,  but  the  slovenliest  and  most  shock 
ingly  ill-accoutred  man  on  record.  But  for  the  care  and 
watchfulness  of  one  of  the  most  superb  women  in  existence 
at  the  time — Mrs.  Lowndes, — the  General  would  probably 
have  frequently  appeared  in  public,  with  his  coat  inside  out, 
and  his  shirt  over  all  1 

General  Lowndes,  in  starting  for  Philadelphia,  was  recom 
mended  by  his  friend  Pinckney,  to  put  up  at  Mistress  Hall's; 
General  P.  giving  General  Lowndes  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  that  lady.  Travelling  was  a  slow  and  tedious,  as  well  as 
fatiguing  and  dirty  operation,  at  that  day,  so  that  after  a 
journey  from  Charleston  to  Philadelphia,  even  a  man  with 
some  pretensions  to  dress  and  respectable  contour,  would 
be  apt  to  look  a  little  "  mussy  ;"  but  for  the  poor  General's 
part,  he  looked  hard  enough,  in  all  conscience,  and  had  he 
known  the  effect  such  an  appearance  was  likely  to  pro 
duce  upon  Mistress  Hall,  he  would  not  have  had  the 


APPEARANCES    ARE    DECEITFUL.  429 

temerity  of  invading  her  premises.  But  the  General's  views 
were  far  above  "buttons,"  leather,  and  prunella.  Such  a 
thing  as  paying  deferential  courtesies  to  a  man's  garments, 
was  something  not  dreamed  of  in  his  philosophy. 

"  Mrs.  Hall's,  I  believe  ?"  said  the  General,  to  a  servant 
answering  the  ponderous,  lion-headed  knocker. 

"  Yes,  sah,"  responded  the  sable  waiter.  "  Walk  dis 
way,  sah,  into  de  parlor,  sah." 

The  General  stalked  in,  leisurely  ;  around  the  fire-place 
were  seated  a  dozen  of  the  boarders,  the  aforesaid  "  big 
bugs"  of  the  olden  time.  Not  one  moved  to  offer  the  stran 
ger  a  seat  by  the  fire,  although  his  warm  Southern  blood 
was  pretty  well  congealed  by  the  frosty  air  of  the  evening. 
The  General  pulled  off  his  gloves,  laid  down  his  great  heavy 
and  dusty  valice,  and  quietly  took  a  remote  seat  to  await 
the  presence  of  the  landlady.  She  came,  lofty  and  impos 
ing  ;  coming  into  the  parlor,  with  her  astute  cap  upon  her 
majestic  head,  her  gold  spectacles  upon  her  nose,  as  stately 
as  a  stage  queen  ! 

"  Good  evening,"  said  the  gallant  General,  rising  and 
making  a  very  polite  bow.  "  Mrs.  Hall,  I  presume  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  responded,  stiffly,  and  eyeing  Lowndes 
with  considerable  diffidence.  "  Any  business  with  me,  sir  ?" 

"Yes,  madam,"  responded  the  General,  "  I— a — purpose 
remaining  in  the  city  some  time,  and — a — I  shall  be  pleased 
to  put  up  with  you." 

"  That's  impossible,  sir,"  was  the  ready  and  decisive  re 
ply.  "My  house  is  full ;  I  cannot  accommodate  you." 

"Well,  really,  that  will  be  a  disappointment,  indeed," 
said  the  General,  "for  I'm  quite  a  stranger  in  the  city,  and 
may  find  it  difficult  to  procure  permanent  lodgings." 

"  I  presume  not,  sir,"  said  she  ;  "  there  are  taverns  enough, 
where  strangers  are  entertained." 

The  gentlemen  around  the  fire,  never  offered  to  tender 
the  stranger  any  information  upon  the  subject,  but  several 


430  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

eyed  him  very  hard,  and  doubtless  felt  pleased  to  see  the 
discomfitted  and  ill-accoutred  traveller  seize  his  baggage, 
adjust  his  dusty  coat,  and  start  out,  which  lie  was  evidently 
very  loth  to  do. 

Just  as  Lowndes  had  reached  the  parlor  door,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  Pinckney  had  recommended  him  to  "  put  up"  at 
the  widow's,  and  also  had  given  him  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  Mrs.  Hall.  This  reminiscence  caused  the  General  to  re 
trace  his  steps  back  into  the  parlor,  where,  placing  his 
portmanteau  on  the  table,  he  applied  the  key  and  opened 
it,  and  began  fumbling  around  for  his  letters,  to  the  no 
small  wonder  of  the  landlady  and  her  respectable  boarders. 
"  I  have  here,  I  believe,  madam,  a  letter  for  you,"  blandly 
said  the  General,  still  overhauling  his  baggage. 

"A  letter  for  me,  sir?"  responded  the  lady. 

"  Yes,  madam,  from  an  old  friend  of  yours,  who  recom 
mended  me  to  stop  with  you.  Ah,  here  it  is,  from  your 
friend  General  Pinckney,  of  South  Carolina." 

"  General  Pinckney  !"  echoed  the  landlady,  all  the  gentle 
men  present  cocking  their  eyes  and  ears  !  The  widow  tore 
open  the  letter,  while  Lowndes  calmly  fastened  up  his  port 
manteau,  and  all  of  a  sudden,  quite  an  incarnation  spread  its 
roseate  hues  over  her  still  elegant  features. 

Lowndes  seized  his  baggage,  and,  with  a  "  good  evening, 
madam,  good  evening,  gentlemen,"  was  about  to  leave  the 
institution,  when  the  lady  arrested  him  with  : 

"Stop,  if  you  please,  sir;  this  is  General  Lowndes,  I 
believe  ?" 

"General  Lowndes,  madam,  at  your  service,"  said  he,  with 
a  dignified  bow. 

According  to  all  accounts,  just  then,  there  was  a  very 
sudden  rising  about  the  fire-place,  and  a  twinkling  of  chairs, 
as  if  they  had  all  just  been  struck  with  the  idea  that  there 
was  a  stranger  about ! 


CIGAR    SMOKE.  431 

"  Keep  your  seats,  gentlemen,"  said  the  General ;  "  I 
don't  wish  to  disturb  any  of  you,  as  I'm  about  to  leave." 

"  General  Lowndes,"  said  the  widow,  "  any  friend  of  Mr. 
Pinckney  is  welcome  to  my  house.  Though  we  are  full,  I 
can  make  room  for  you,  sir." 

The  General  stopped,  and  the  widow  and  he  became  first- 
rate  friends,  when  they  became  better  acquainted. 


FEW  persons  can  readily  conceive  of  the  amount  of  cigars 
consumed  in  this  country,  daily,  to  say  little  or  nothing  of 
the  yearly  smokers.  The  growing  passion  for  the  noxious 
weed  is  truly  any  thing  but  pleasantly  contemplative.  A 
boy  commences  smoking  at  ten  or  a  dozen  years  old,  and 
by  the  time  .he  should  be  "of  age,"  he  is,  in  various  hot 
house  developed  faculties,  quite  advanced  in  years  !  And 
street  smoking,  too,  has  increased,  at  a  rate,  within  a  year 
past,  that  bids  fair  to  make  the  Puritan  breezes  of  our 
evenings  as  redolent  of  "smoke  and  smell,"  as  meets  one's 
nasal  organic  faculties  upon  paying  a  pop  visit  to  New 
York.  There  is  but  one  idea  of  useful  import  that  we  can 
advance  in  favor  of  smoking,  to  any  great  extent,  in  our 
city:  consumption  and  asthmatic  disorders  generally  are 
more  prevalent  here  than  in  other  and  more  southern  climates, 
and  for  the  protection  of  the  lungs,  cigar  smoking,  to  a 
moderate  extent,  may  be  useful,  as  well  as  pleasurable; 
but  an  indiscriminate  "looseness"  in  smoking  is  not  only  a 
dead  waste  of  much  ready  money,  but  injurious  to  the  eyes, 
teeth,  breath,  taste,  smell,  and  all  other  senses. 


dpfrtrlasthtg  Call  gutl. 


AFTER  all  the  vicissitudes,  ups  and  downs  of  a  soldier's 
life,  especially  in  such  a  campaign  as  that  in  Mexico, 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  music  mixed  up  with  the  misery, 
fun  with  the  fuss  and  feathers,  and  incident  enough  to  last 
a  man  the  balance  of  a  long  lifetime. 

While  camped  at  Camargo,  the  officers  and  privates  of 
the  Ohio  volunteer  regiment  were  paid  off  one  day,  and,  of 
course,  all  who  could  get  leave,  started  to  town,  to  have  a 
time,  and  get  clear  of  their  hard  earnings. 

The  Mexicans  were  some  pleased,  and  greatly  illumin 
ated  by  the  Americans,  that  and  the  succeeding  day. 
Several  of  the  officers  invested  a  portion  of  their  funds  in 
mules  and  mustangs.  Among  the  rest,  Lieut.  Dick  Mason 
and  Adjt.  Wash.  Armstrong  set  up  their  private  teams. 
Now,  it  so  fell  out,  that  one  of  Armstrong's  men  stole 
Mason's  mule,  and  being  caught  during  the  day  with  the 
stolen  property  on  him,  or  he  on  it,  the  high-handed  pri 
vate,  (who,  barring  his  propensity  to  ride  in  preference  to 
walking,  was  a  very  clever  sort  of  fellow,  and  rather  popu 
lar  with  the  Adjutant,)  nabbed  him  as  a  hawk  would  a  pip- 
chicken. 

"  If  I  catch  the  fellow  who  stole  my  mule,"  quoth  Lieut. 
Dick,  "  I'll  give  him  a  lamming  he  wont  forget  soon  !" 

And,  good  as  his  word,  when  the  man  was  taken,  the 
Lieutenant  had  him  whipped  severely.  This  riled  up  Adjt. 
Wash.,  who,  in  good,  round,  unvarnished  terms,  volunteered 
to  lick  the  Lieutenant  —  out  of  his  leathers  !  From  words 
they  came  to  blows,  very  expeditiously,  and  some  how  or 
other  the  Lieutenant  came  out  second  best  —  bad  licked  I 
(432) 


AN  EVERLASTING    TALL   DUEL.  433 

This  sort  of  a  finale  did  not  set  well  upon  the  stomach  of 
the  gallant  Lieutenant ;  so  he  ups  and  writes  a  challenge  to 
the  Adjutant  to  meet  in  mortal  combat ;  and  readily  finding 
a  second,  the  challenge  was  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered  to 

Adjt.  Armstrong,   Company  ,  Ohio  volunteers.     All 

these  preliminaries  were  carried  on  in,  or  very  near  in, 
Camargo.  The  Adjutant  readily  accepted  the  invitation  to 
step  out  and  be  shot  at ;  and,  having  scared  up  his  second, 
and  having  no  heirs  or  assigns,  goods,  chattels,  or  other 
sublunary  matters  to  adjust,  no  time  was  lost  in  making 
wills  or  leaving  posthumous  information.  The  duel  went 
forward  with  alacrity,  but  all  of  a  sudden  it  was  discovered 
by  the  several  interested  parties  that  no  arms  were  in  the 
crowd.  It  would  not  very  well  do  to  go  to  camp  and  look 
for  duelling  weapons  ;  so  it  was  proposed  to  do  the  best  that 
could  be  done  under  the  circumstances,  and  buy  such  mur 
derous  tools  as  could  be  found  at  hand,  and  go  into  the 
merits  of  the  case  at  once.  At  length  the  Adjutant  and 
friend  chanced  upon  a  machine  supposed  to  be  a  pistol, 
brought  over  to  the  Continent,  most  probably,  by  Cortez,  in 
the  year  1 — sometime.  It  was  a  scrougirt  thing  to  hold 
powder  and  lead,  and  went  off  once  in  three  times  with  the 
intonation  of  a  four-pounder. 

"  Hang  the  difference,"  says  the  Adjutant;  "it  will  do." 

"Must  do,"  the  second  replies;  and  so  paying  for  the 
tool,  and  swallowing  down  a  fresh  invoice  of  ardiente,  the 
fighting  men  start  to  muster  up  their  opponents,  whom  they 
found  armed  and  equipped,  upon  a  footing  equal  to  the 
other  side,  or  pretty  near  it,  the  Lieutenant  having  a  little 
heavier  piece,  with  a  bore  into  which  a  gill  measure  might 
be  thrown. 

"  But — the  difference  !"  cried  seconds  and  principals. 

"  Let's  fight,  not  talk,"  says  the  Adjutant. 

"That's  my  opinion,  gentlemen,  exactly,"  the  Lieutenant 
responds. 
21 


434  HUMORS    OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?" 

"Anywhere  !" 

"Better  get  out  into  the  chaparral,"  say  the  cautious 
seconds;  "don't  want  a  crowd.  Come  on  !"  continue  the 
seconds,  very  valorously;  "let's  fight!" 

"Here's  the  ground!"  cries  one,  as  the  parties  reach  a 
chaparral,  a  mile  or  so  from  town  ;  "  here  is  our  ground  !" 

The  principals  stared  around  as  if  rather  uncertain  about 
that,  for  the  bushes  were  so  thick  and  high  that  precious 
little  ground  was  visible. 

"It  ain't  worth  while,  gentlemen,  to  toss  up  for  positions, 
is  it  ?"  says  the  Adjutant's  second. 

"  No,"  cry  both  principals.  "  Measure  off  the  ground,  if 
you  can  find  it ;  let  us  go  to  work." 

"  That's  the  talk!"  says  the  Adjutant's  second. 

"  Measure  off  thirty  paces,"  the  Lieutenant's  second 
responds. 

"  No,  ten  !"  cry  the  principals. 

"  Twenty  paces  or  no  fight !"  insists  the  Adjutant's 
second.  "Twenty  paces;  one,  two,  three " 

And  the  seconds  trod  off  as  best  they  could  the  distance, 
the  pieces  were  loaded,  the  several  bipeds  took  a  drink  all 
around  from  an  ample  jug  of  the  R.  Gr.  they  brought  for 
the  purpose,  and  then  began  the  memorable  duel.  The 
principals  were  placed  in  their  respective  positions,  to  rake 
down  each  other ;  and  from  a  safer  point  of  the  compass 
the  seconds  gave  the  word. 

"  Bang-g-g !"  went  the  Adjutant's  piece,  knocking  him 
down  flat  as  a  hoe-cake. 

"  F-f-f-izzy  !"  and  the  Lieutenant's  piece  hung  fire. 

The  seconds  flew  to  their  men ;  a  parley  took  place 
upon  a  "  question"  whether  the  Lieutenant  had  a  right 
to  prime  and  fire  again,  or  not  The  Adjutant  being  set 
upon  his  pins;  declared  himsejf  ready  and  willing  to  let  the 
Lieutenant  blaze  away  !  The  point  was  finally  settled  by 


AN   EVERLASTING  TALL   DUEL.  435 

loading  up  the  Adjutant's  piece,  and  priming  that  of  the 
Lieutenant,  placing  the  men,  and  giving  the  word, 

"  One,  two,  three  !" 

"Wang-g-g-g!" 

"  Fiz-a-bang-g-g-g !" 

The  seconds  ran,  or  hobbled  forward,  each  to  his  man, 
both  being  down  ;  but  whether  by  concussion,  recoil  of  their 
fusees,  force  of  the  liquor,  or  weakness  of  the  knee-pans, 
was  a  hard  fact  to  solve. 

"Hurt,  Wash.?" 

"  Not  a  bit !"  cries  the  Adjutant,  getting  up. 

"Hit,  Dick?" 

"  No,  sir!"  shouts  the  Lieutenant ;  "  good  as  new  !" 

"Set 'em  up  I" 

"  Take  your  places,  gentlemen  !"  cry  the  seconds. 

All  ready.  Wang  !  bang  !  go  the  pieces,  and  down  ker- 
chug  go  both  men  again.  The  seconds  rush  forward,  raise 
their  men,  all  safe,  load  up  again,  take  a  drink,  all  right. 

"Make  ready,  take  aim,  fire!" 

"Wang-g-gl" 

"Bang-g-g!" 

Both  down  again,  the  Lieutenant's  coat-tail  slightly  dis 
located,  and  the  Adjutant  dangerously  wounded  in  the  leg 
of  his  breeches  !  Both  parties  getting  very  mad,  very  tired, 
and  very  anxious  to  try  it  on  at  ten  paces.  Seconds  object, 
pieces  loaded  up  again,  principals  arranged,  and, 

"  One,  two,  three,  fire  1" 

"Wang-g-g-g!" 

"Bang-g-g!" 

All  down — load  up  again — take  a  drink — fire  !  and  down 
they  go  again.  It  is  very  natural  to  suppose  that  all  this 
firing  attracted  somebody's  attention,  and  somebody  came 
poking  around  to  see  what  it  was  all  about ;  and  just  then, 
as  four  or  five  Mexicans  came  peeping  and  peering  through 
the  chaparral,  Dick  and  Wash,  let  drive— Bang-g !  wang-gl 


436  HUMORS   OF   FALCONBRIDGE. 

and  though  it  seemed  impossible  to  hit  one  another,  the 
slugs,  ricochetting  over  and  through  the  chaparral,  knocked 
down  two  Mexicans,  who  yelled  sanguinary  murder,  and  the 
rest  of  their  friends  took  to  their  heels.  The  seconds,  not 
quite  so  "tight"  as  the  principals,  took  warning  in  time  to 
evacuate  the  field  of  honor,  Lieut.  Dick's  second  taking  him 
one  way,  and  Ajt.  Wash.'s  friend  going  another,  just  as  a 
"  Corporal's  Guard"  made  their  appearance  to  arrest  the 
rioters.  In  spite  of  the  poor  Mexicans'  protestations,  or 
endeavors  to  make  out  a  true  case,  they  were  taken  up  and 
carried  to  the  Guard-House,  for  shooting  one  another,  and 
raising  a  row  in  general.  A  night's  repose  brought  the 
morning's  reflection,  when  the  previous  day's  performances 
were  laughed  at,  if  not  forgotten.  Wash,  and  Dick  became 
good  friends,  of  course,  and  cemented  the  bonds  of  frater 
nity  in  the  bloody  work  of  a  day  or  two  afterwards,  in 
storming  Monterey. 


THE  END. 


WIDDIFIELD'S 

NEW  COOK   BOOK: 

OK, 

PRACTICAL  RECEIPTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEWIFE. 

BY 

HANNAH  WIDDIFIELD, 

Celebrated  for  many  Years  for  the  superiority  of  every  article  she  made,  in 
South  Ninth  Street,  above  Spruce,  Philadelphia. 

Complete  in  one  large  duodecimo  volume,  strongly  bound.    Price 
One  Dollar. 

There  is  not  a  lady  living,  but  should  possess  themselves  of  a 
copy  of  this  work  at  once.  It  will  give  you  all  better  meals  and 
make  your  cost  of  living  less,  and  keep  your  husbands,  sons,  and 
brothers  in  an  excellent  humor.  It  is  recommended  by  thousands, 
and  is  the  best  and  only  complete  Book  on  all  kinds  of  Cookery  ex 
tant.  It  is  written  so  that  all  can  understand  it.  It  is  taking  the  place 
of  all  other  Cook  Books,  for  a  person  possessing  "WIDDIFIELD'S 
NEW  COOK  BOOK"  needs  no  other,  as  a  copy  of  this  is  worth  all 
the  other  books,  called  Cook  Books,  in  the  World. 

Bead  what  the  Editor  of  the  Dollar  Newspaper  says  about  it. 

"The  authoress  of  this  work  long  enjoyed  great  celebrity  with  the 
best  families  in  Philadelphia  as  the  most  thoroughly  informed  lady 
in  her  profession  in  this  country.  Her  Establishment,  on  Ninth 
above  Spruce  street,  has  long  enjoyed  the  patronage  of  the  best 
livers  in  our  city.  The  receipts  cover  almost  every  variety  of  cake 
or  dish,  and  every  species  of  cooking.  One  great  advantage  which 
this  book  enjoys  over  almost  every  other  is  the  simplicity  with  which 
the  ingredients  are  set  forth,  and  the  comparatively  moderate  cost 
at  which  particular  receipts  may  be  got  up.  In  most  cook  books  the 
directions  corer  so  large  a  cost,  that  to  common  livers  the  directions 
had  almost  as  well  not  be  given.  This  objection  has  been  measura 
bly  removed  in  this  new  volume.  Another  important  matter  is,  no 
receipts  are  contained  in  it  but  those  fully  tested,  not  only  by  the 
author,  but  by  cooks  and  housekeepers  most  competent  to  judge. 
The  volume  opens  with  directions  for  soup,  for  fish,  oysters,  meat, 
poultry,  etc.  In  addition  to  all  this,  much  attention  has  been  given 
to  directions  for  the  preparation  of  dishes  for  the  sick  and  conva 
lescent.  Mr.  Peterson  has  issued  the  volume  in  handsome  style, 
wisely,  as  we  think,  using  large  type  and  good  paper.  The  book  is 
sold  at,  or  will  be  sent  to  any  part  of  the  Union,  free  of  postage,  on 
receipt  of  One  Dollar." 

(17) 


18  WIDDIFIELD'S  NEW  COOK  BOOK. 

Read  what  the  Editor  of  the  Saturday  Evening  Poet  says  of  it. 

"A  number  of  good  books  on  this  subject  have  been  published 
lately,  but  this  is  unquestionably  the  best  that  we  have  ever  seen 
Its  superiority  is  in  the  clearness,  and  brevity,  and  the  practical 
directness  of  the  receipts;  they  are  easily  understood  and  followed. 
The  book  looks  like  what  it  is,  the  ripe  fruit  of  many  years' sue- 
cessful  practice.  The  establishment  of  Mrs.  Widdifield  has  for  many 
years  held  the  first  rank  in  Philadelphia  for  the  unvarying  excellence 
of  every  article  there  made;  and  now  she  crowns  her  well  deserved 
celebrity  by  giving  to  the  world  the  best  book  that  has  been  written  on 
the  subject  of  cookery.  The  clear  type  in  which  the  publisher  presents 
it  is  no  slight  addition  to  its  value." 

Head  what  the  Editor  of  the  Public  Ledger  says  of  it. 

"A  VALUABLE  WORK. — Next  to  having  something  to  eat  is 
having  it  cooked  in  a  style  fit  to  be  eaten.  Every  housekeeper  does 
not  understand  this  art,  and,  probably,  only  for  want  of  a  little  ele 
mentary  teaching.  This  want  is  easily  supplied,  for  T.  B.  Peterson  h?is 
just  published  Mrs.  Widdifield's  New  Cook  Book,  in  which  the  ex 
perience  of  that  celebrated  person  in  this  line  is  given  so  clearly  and 
with  such  precise  details,  that  any  housekeeper  of  sufficient  capacity 
to  undertake  the  management  of  household  affairs,  can  make  herself 
an  accomplished  caterer  for  the  table  without  serving  an  apprentice 
ship  to  the  business.  The  book  is  published  in  one  volume,  the 
typography  good,  and  paper  excellent,  with  as  much  real  useful  in 
formation  in  the  volume  as  would  be  worth  a  dozen  timos  its  price. 
Get  it  at  once. 

Head  what  the  Editors'  wives  think  of  it. 

"It  is  unquestionably  the  best  Cook  Book  we  have  ever  seen." — 
Saturday  Evening  Post. 

"It  is  the  best  of  the  many  works  on  Cookery  which  have  ap 
peared.  The  receipts  are  all  plain  and  practical,  and  have  never 
before  appeared  in  print." — Germantoivn  Telegraph. 

"  It  is  the  best  Cook  Book  out.  Every  housewife  or  lady  should 
get  a  copy  at  once." — Berks  Co.  Press. 

"We  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  it  the  best  work  on  tha 
subject  of  Cookery  extant." — Ladies'  National  Magazine. 

"It  is  the  very  best  book  on  Cookery  and  Receipts  published."— 
Dollar  Newspaper. 

"It  is  the  very  best  family  Cook  Book  in  existence,  and  we  cordially 
recommend  it  as  such  to  our  readers." — Evening  Bulletin. 

"  It  is  the  best  Cook  Book  we  have  ever  seen." —  Washington  Union. 

JfSSS"  Copies  of  the  above  celebrated  Cook  Book  will  be  sent  to 
any  one  to  any  place,  free  of  postage,  on  remitting  One  Dollar  to  the 
Publisher,  in  a  letter.  Published  and  for  sale  at  the  Cheap  Book- 
Belling  and  Publishing  House  of 

T.    B.    PETERSON, 

No.  10-4  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 

To  whom  all  orders  must  come  addressed. 


BOOKS  FOR  EVERYBODY  AT  GREATLY  REDUCED  RATES. 

PUBLISHED    AND    FOR    SALE    BY 

T.  B.   PETERSON, 

No.  102  Chestnut  Street,  Philad'a. 


IN  THIS  CATALOGUE  WILL  BE  FOUND  THE  LATEST 

AND  BEST  WORKS  BY  THE  MOST  POPULAR  AND 

CELEBRATED  WRITERS  IN  THE  WORLD. 

AMONG    WHICH     WILL     BE     FOUND 

CHARLES  DICKENS'S,  MRS.  CAROLINE  LEE  HENTZ'S,  SIR  E.  L. 
BULWER'S,  G.  P.  R.  JAMES'S,  ELLEN  PICKERING'S,  CAPTAIN 
MARRYATT'S,  MRS.  GREY'S,  T.  S.  ARTHUR'S,  CHARLES  LEVER'S, 
ALEXANDRE  DUMAS',  W.  HARRISON  AINSWORTH'S,  D'lSRA- 
ELI'S,  THACKERAY'S,  SAMUEL  WARREN'S,  EMERSON  BEN 
NETT'S,  GEORGE  LIPPARD'S,  REYNOLDS',  C.  J.  PETERSON'S, 
PETERSON'S  HUMOROUS  AMERICAN  WORKS,  HENRY  COCK- 
TON'S,  EUGENE  SUE'S,  GEORGE  SANDS',  CURRER  BELL'S, 
AND  ALL  THE  OTHER  BEST  AUTHORS  IN  THE  WORLD, 

JB^^The  best  way  is  to  look  through,  the  Catalogue,  and  see  what 
hooks  are  in  it.  You  will  all  he  amply  repaid  for  your  trouble. 

SPECIAL  NOTICE  TO  EVERYBODY. — Any  person  whatever  in  this 
country,  wishing  any  of  the  works  in  this  Catalogue,  on  remitting  the  price 
of  the  ones  they  wish,  in  a  letter,  directed  to  T.  B.  Peterson,  No.  102 
Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  shall  have  them  sent  by  return  of  mail,  to 
any  place  in  the  United  States,  free  of  postage.  This  is  a  splendid  offer, 
as  any  one  can  get  books  to  the  most  remote  place  in  the  country,  for  the 
regular  price  sold  in  the  large  cities,  free  of  postage,  on  sending  for  ^hem. 

_^SJ-  All  orders  thankfully  received  and  filled  with  despatch,  and  sent 
by  return  of  mail,  or  express,  or  stage,  or  in  any  other  way  the  person 
ordering  may  direct.  Booksellers,  News  Agents,  Pedlars,  and  all  others 
supplied  with  any  works  published  in  the  world,  at  the  lowest  rates. 

Any  Book  published,  or  advertised  by  any  one,  can  be  had  here. 
Agents,  Pedlars,  Canvassers,  Booksellers,  News  Agents,  <fcc., 
throughout  the  country,  who  wish  to  make  money  on  a  small  capital,  would 
do  well  to  address  the  undersigned,  who  will  furnish  a  complete  outfit  for 
a  comparatively  small  amount.  Send  by  all  means,  for  whatever  books  you 
may  wish,  to  the  Publishing  and  Bookselling  Establishment  of 

(1)  T,  B.  PETERSON,  No.  102  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 


T.    B.    PETERSON, 

No.  102  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia, 

HAS    JUST    PUBLISHED    AND    FOR    SALE, 

STEREOTYPE  EDITIONS  OF  THE  FOLLOWING  WORKS, 

Which  will  be  found  to  be  the  Best  and  Latest  Publications,  by  the 
Most  Popular  and  Celebrated  Writers  in  the  World. 

Every  work  published  for  Sale  here,  either  at  Wholesale  or  Retail. 

All  Books  in  this  Catalogue  will  be  sent  to  any  one  to  anyplace,  per  mail, 
free  of  postage,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


MRS.  SOUTHWORTH'S  Celebrated  WORKS. 

With  a  beautiful  Illustration  in  each  volume. 

INDIA.  THE  PEARL  OF  PEARL  RIVER.  By  Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N. 
Southworth.  This  is  her  new  work,  and  is  equal  to  any  of  her 
previous  ones.  Complete  in  two  large  volumes,  paper  cover.  Price 
One  Dollar;  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1,25. 

THE  MISSING  BRIDE;  OR,  MIRIAM  THE  AVENGER.  By  Mrs. 
Emma  D.  E.  N.  Southworth.  Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover. 
Price  One  Dollar;  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1,25. 

THE  LOST  HEIRESS.  By  Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N.  Southworth.  Being  a 
Splendid  Picture  of  American  Life.  It  is  a  work  of  powerful  interest. 
It  is  embellished  with  a  beautiful  Portrait  and  Autograph  of  the 
author.  Complete  in  two  vols.,  paper  cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or 
bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

THE  WIFE'S  VICTORY ;  AND  NINE  OTHER  NOUVELLETTES.  By 
Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N.  Southworth.  Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper 
cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1,25. 

THE  CURSE  OF  CLIFTON.  By  Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N.  Southworth. 
Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  bound 
in  one  volume,  cloth,  gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-fivo  cents. 

THE  DISCARDED  DAUGHTER.  By  Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N.  South- 
worth.  Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover.  Price  One  Dollar; 
or  bound  in  cloth,  gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

THE  DESERTED  WIFE.  By  Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N.  Southworth.  Cora- 
plete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  bound  in 
one  volume,  cloth,  gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

THE  INITIALS.  A  LOVE  STORY  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  By  a  daugh 
ter  of  the  celebrated  Lord  Erskine,  formerly  Lord  High  Chancellor 
of  England.  This  is  a  celebrated  and  world-renowned  work.  It  is 
one  of  the  best  works  ever  published  in  the  English  language,  and 
will  be  read  for  generations  to  come,  and  rank  by  the  side  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  celebrated  novels.  Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper 
cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  gilt,  for 
One  Dollar  and  Twenty -five  cents  a  copy 


T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.       3 
CHARLES  DICKENS'  WORKS. 

The  best  and  most  popular  in  the  world.     Ten  different  editions.     No 

Library  can  be  complete  without  a  Sett  of  these  Works. 

.Reprinted  from  the  Author's  last  Editions. 

"PETERSON'S"  is  the  only  complete  and  uniform  edition  of  Charles 
Dickens'  works  published  in  America;  they  are  reprinted  from  the  original 
London  editions,  and  are  now  the  only  edition  published  in  this  country. 
No  library,  either  public  or  private,  can  be  complete  without  having  in  it 
a  complete  sett  of  the  works  of  this,  the  greatest  of  all  living  authors. 
Every  family  should  possess  a  sett  of  one  of  the  editions.  The  cheap 
edition  is  complete  in  Twelve  Volumes,  paper  cover;  either  or  all  of  which 
can  be  had  separately.  Price  Fifty  cents  each.  The  following  are  their 
names. 

DAVID  COPPERFIELD,  DICKENS'  NEW  STORIES.      Con- 

NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY,  taining  The  Seven  Poor  Travellers. 

PICKWICK  PAPERS,  Nine  New  Stories  by  the  Christmas 

DOMBEY  AND  SON,  Fire.     Hard  Times.     Lizzie  Leigh. 

MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT,  The  Miner's  Daughters,  etc. 

BARNABY  RUDGB,  CHRISTMAS    STORIES.     Contnin- 

OLD  CURIOSITY  SHOP,  ing— A     Christmas     Carol.        The 

SKETCHES  BY  "BOZ,"  Chimes.      Cricket   on   the  Hearth. 

OLIVER  TWIST  Battle  of  Life.     Haunted  Man,  and 

BLEAK  HOUSE,  Pictures  from  Italy. 

A  complete  sett  of  the  above  edition,  twelve  volumes  in  all,  will  be  sent 
to  any  one  to  any  place,  free  of  postage,  for  Five  Dollars. 


COMPLETE  LIBRARY  EDITION. 

In  FIVE  large  octavo  volumes,  with   a  Portrait,  on  Steel,  of  Charles 
Dickens,  containing  over  Four  Thousand  very  large  pages,  handsomely 
printed,  and  bound  in  various  styles. 
Volume  1  contains  Pickwick  Papers  and  Curiosity  Shop. 

"         2     do.         Oliver  Twist,  Sketches  by  "Boz,"  and  Barnaby  Rudge. 

"         3     do.         Nicholas  Nickleby  and  Martin  Chuzzlewit. 

"         4     do.         David  Copperfield,  Dombey  and  Son,  Christmas  Stories, 

and  Pictures  from  Italy. 

»•  5  do.  Bleak  House,  and  Dickens'  New  Stories.  Containing 
— The  Seven  Poor  Travellers.  Nine  New  Stories 
by  the  Christmas  Fire.  Hard  Times.  Lizzie 
Leigh.  The  Miner's  Daughters,  and  Fortune 
Wildred,  etc. 

Price  of  a  complete  sett.     Bound  in  Black  cloth,  full  gilt  back,  $7  50 

"             "               "             «           scarlet  cloth,  extra,  8  50 

'<            "               "             "           library  sheep,  9  00 

"             "               "             "           half  turkey  morocco,  11  00 

"             "               "             "           half  calf,  antique,  15  00 
Illustrated  Edition  is  described  on  next  page. 


4       T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS. 
ILLUSTRATED  EDITION  OF  DICKENS'  WORKS. 

Tliis  edition  is  printed  on  very  thick  and  fine  white  paper,  and  is  pro 
fusely  illustrated,  with  all  the  original  illustrations  by  Cruikshank,  Alfred 
Crowquill,  Phiz,  etc.,  from  the  original  London  edition,  on  copper,  steel, 
arid  wood.  Each  volume  contains  a  novel  complete,  and  may  be  had  in 
complete  setts,  beautifully  bound  in  cloth,  for  Eighteen  Dollars  for  the 
Bett  in  twelve  volumes,  or  any  volume  will  be  sold  separately,  as  follows: 


BLE  J  K  HOUSE,         Price,  $1  50 
PICKWICK  PAPERS,  1  50 

OLD  CURIOSITY  SHOP,      1  50 
OLIVER  TWIST,  1  50 

SKETCHES  BY  "BOZ,"       1  50 
BARNABY  RUDGE,  1  50 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY,  $150 
MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT,  1  50 
DAVID  COPPERFIELD,  1  50 
DOMBEY  AND  SON,  1  50 

CHRISTMAS  STORIES,  1  50 
DICKENS'  NEW  STORIES.  1  50 


Price  of  a  complete  sett  of  the  Illustrated  Edition,  in  twelve 

vols.,  in  black  cloth,  gilt  back,  $18,00 

Price  of  a  complete  sett  of  the  Illustrated  Edition,  in  twelve 

vols.,  in  full  law  library  sheep,  $24,00 

Price  of  a  complete  sett  of  the  Illustrated  edition,  in  twelve 

vols.,  in  half  turkey  Morocco,  $27,00 

Price  of  a  complete  sett  of  the  Illustrated  Edition,  in  twelve 

vols.,  in  half  calf,  antique,  $36,00 

All  subsequent  work*  In/   Charles  Dickens  will  be  issued  in  uniform  style  with 
all  the  previous  ten  di/crent  editions. 

CAPTAIN  MARRYATT'S  WORKS. 

Either  of  which  can  be  had  separately.  Price  of  all  except  the  four  last 
is  25  cents  each.  They  are  printed  on  the  finest  white  paper,  and  each 
forms  one  large  octavo  volume,  complete  in  itself. 

PETER  SIMPLE.  NAVAL  OFFICER. 

JACOB  FAITHFUL.  PIRATE  AND  THREE  CUTTERS 

THE  PHANTOM  SHIP.  SNARLEYYOW  ;  or,  the  Dog-Fiend. 

MIDSHIPMAN  EASY.  PERCIVAL  KEENE.     Price  50  cts. 

KING'S  OWN.  POOR   JACK.     Price  50  cents. 

NEWTON  FORSTER.  SEA  KING.     200  pages      Price  50 

JAPHET  IN   SEARCH   OF  cents. 

A  FATHER.  VALERIE.     His  last  Novel.     Price 

PACHA  OF  MANY  TALES.  50  cents. 

ELLEN  PICKERING'S  NOVELS. 

Either  of  which  can  be  had  separately.  Price  25  cents  each.  They  are 
printed  on  the  finest  white  paper,  and  each  forms  one  large  octavo  volume, 
complete  in  itself,  neatly  bound  in  a  strong  paper  cover. 

THE  ORPHAN  NIECE.  THE  HEIRESS. 

KATE  WALSINGHAM.  PRINCE  AND  PEDLER 

THE  POOR  COUSIN.  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER. 

ELLEN  WAREHAM.  THE  FRIGHT 

THE  QUIET  HUSBAND.  NAN  DARRELL. 

WHO  SHALL  BE  HEIR?  THE  SQUIRE. 

THE  SECRET  FOE.  THE  EXPECTANT. 

AGNES  SERLE.  THE  GRUMBLER.  50  etc. 


T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.      5 


MRS.  CAROLINE  LEE  HENTZ'S  WORKS. 

COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE;  OR,  THE  JOYS  AND  SORROWS 
OF  AMERICAN  LIFE.  With  a  Portrait  of  the  Author.  Complete 
in  two  large  volumes,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one 
volume,  cloth  gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE.  With  illustrations.  Com- 
plete  in  two  large  volumes,  paper  cover,  600  pages,  price  One  Dollar, 
or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth  gilt,  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

LINDA;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  PILOT  OF  THE  BELLE  CREOLE.  Com 
plete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one 
volume,  cloth  gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

ROBERT  GRAHAM.  The  Sequel  to,  and  continuation  of  Linda.  Be. 
ing  the  last  book  but  one  that  Mrs.  Hentz  wrote  prior  to  her  death. 
Complete  in  two  large  volumes,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or 
bound  in  one  volume,  for  cloth  gilt,  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

RENA  ;  OR,  THE  SNOW  BIRD.  A  Tale  of  Real  Life.  Complete  in  two 
volumes,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one  volume, 
cloth  gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

MARCUS  WARLAND ;  OR,  THE  LONG  MOSS  SPRING.  A  Tale  of 
the  South.  Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar, 
or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth  gilt,  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

LOVE  AFTER  MARRIAGE  ;  and  other  Stories.  Complete  in  two  vol 
umes,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth 
gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

EOLINE ;  OR,  MAGNOLIA  VALE.  Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper 
cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth  gilt,  $1  25. 

THE  BANISHED  SON;  and  other  Stories.  Complete  in  two  volumes, 
paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth  gilt,  $1  25. 

HELEN  AND  ARTHUR.  Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover,  price 
One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth  gilt,  $1  25. 

AUNT  PATTY'S  SCRAP  BAG,  together  with  larg<  additions  to  it, 
written  by  Mrs.  Hentz,  prior  to  her  death,  and  never  before  published 
in  any  other  edition  of  this  or  any  other  work  than  this.  Complete  in 
two  volumes,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or  bound  in  one  volume, 
cloth  gilt,  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  cents. 

T.  S.  ARTHUR'S  WORKS. 

Either  of  which  can  be  had  separately.  Price  25  cents  each.  They  are 
the  most  moral,  popular  and  entertaining  in  the  world.  There  are  no 
better  books  to  place  in  the  hands  of  the  young.  All  will  profit  by  them. 


YEAR  AFTER  MARRIAGE. 
THE  DIVORCED  WIFE. 
THE  BANKER'S  WIFE. 
PRIDE  AND  PRUDENCE. 
CECILIA  HOWARD. 
MARY  MORETON. 
LOVE  IN  A  COTTAGE. 
LOVE  IN  HIGH  LIFE. 
THE  TWO  MERCHANTS. 
LADY  AT  HOME. 


TRIAL  AND  TRIUMPH. 
THE  ORPHAN  CHILDREN. 
THE  DEBTOR'S  DAUGHTER. 
INSUBORDINATION. 
LUCY  SANDFORD. 
AGNES,  or  the  Possessed. 
THE  TWO  BRIDES. 
THE  IRON  RULE. 
THE  OLD  ASTROLOGER, 
THE  SEAMSTRESS. 


6      T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS. 
CHARLES  LEVER'S  NOVELS. 

CHARLES  O'MALLEY,  the  Irish  Dragoon.  By  Charles  Lever.  Com 
plete  in  one  lar^e  octavo  volume  of  324  pages.  Price  Fifty  cents;  or 
an  edition  on  liner  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  illustrated.  Price  One 
Dollar. 

THE  KNIGHT  OF  G WYNNE.  A  tale  of  the  time  of  the  Union.  By 
Charles  Lever.  Complete  in  one  fine  octavo  volume.  Price  Fifty 
cents;  or  ;in  edition  on  finer  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  illustrated. 
Price  One  Dollar. 

JACK  HINTON,  the  Guardsman.  By  Charles  Lever.  Complete  in  one 
large  octavo  volume  of  400  pages.  Price  Fifty  cents;  or  an  edition 
on  finer  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  illustrated.  Price  One  Dollar. 

TOM  BURKE  OF  OURS.  By  Charles  Lever.  Complete  in  one  large 
octavo  volume  of  300  pages.  Price  Fifty  cents ;  or  an  edition  on 
finer  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  illustrated.  Price  One  Dollar. 

ARTHUR  0  LEARY.  By  Charles  Lever.  Complete  in  one  large  octavo 
volume.  Price  Fifty  cents ;  or  an  edition  on  finer  paper,  bound  in 
cloth,  illustrated.  Price  One  Dollar. 

KATE  O'DONOGHUE.  A  Tale  of  Ireland.  By  Charles  Lever.  Com- 
plete  in  one  large  octavo  volume.  Price  Fifty  cents ;  or  an  edition 
on  finer  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  illustrated.  Price  One  Dollar. 

HORACE  TEMPLETON.  By  Charles  Lever.  This  is  Lever's  New 
Book.  Complete  in  one  large  octavo  volume.  Price  Fifty  cents;  or 
an  edition  on  finer  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  illustrated.  Price  One  Dollar. 

HARRY  LORREQUER.  By  Charles  Lever,  author  of  the  above  seven 
works.  Complete  in  one  octavo  volume  of  402  pages.  Price  Fifty 
cents;  or  an  edition  on  finer  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  illustrated.  Price 
One  Dollar. 

VALENTINE  VOX.— LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  VALENTINE 
VOX,  the  Ventriloquist.  By  Henry  Cockton.  One  of  the  most 
humorous  books  ever  published.  Price  Fift}r  cents;  or  an  edition  on 
finer  paper,  bound  in  cloth.  Price  One  Dollar. 

PERCY  EFFINGIIAM.  By  Henry  Cockton,  author  of  "  Valentine  Vox, 
the  Ventriloquist."  One  large  octavo  volume.  Price  50  cents. 

TEN  THOUSAND  A  YEAR.  By  Samuel  C.  Warren.  With  Portraits 
of  Snap,  Quirk,  Gammon,  and  Tittlebat  Titmouse,  Esq.  Two  largo 
octavo  vols.,  of  547  pages.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  an  edition  on  finer 
paper,  bound  in  cloth,  $1,50. 

CHARLES  J.  PETERSON'S  WORKS. 

KATE  AYLESFORD.  A  story  of  the  Refugees.  One  of  the  most  popu 
lar  books  ever  printed.  Complete  in  two  large  volumes,  paper  cover. 
Price  One  Dollar;  or  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  gilt.  Price  $1  25. 

CRUISING  IN  THE  LAST  WAR.  A  Naval  Story  of  the  War  of  1812. 
First  and  Second  Series.  Being  the  complete  work,  unabridged.  By 
Charles  J.  Peterson.  228  octavo  pages.  Price  50  cents. 

'JRACE  DUDLEY;  OR,  ARNOLD  AT  SARATOGA.  By  Charles  J. 
Peterson.  Illustrated.  Price  25  cents. 

THE  VALLEY  FARM;  OR,  the  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  AN  OR. 
PHAN.  A  companion  to  Jane  Eyre.  Price  25  cents. 


T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.       7 
EUGENE  SUE'S  NOVELS. 

1HE  MYSTERIES  OF  PARIS;  AND  GEROLSTEIN,  the  Sequel  to  it. 
By  Eugene  Sue,  author  of  the  "  Wandering  Jew,"  and  the  greatest 
work  ever  written.  With  illustrations.  Complete  in  two  large  volumes, 
octavo.  Price  One  Dollar. 

THE  ILLUSTRATED  WANDERING  JEW.  By  Eugene  Sue.  With 
87  large  illustrations.  Two  large  octavo  volumes.  Price  One  Dollar. 

THE  FEMALE  BLUEBEARD;  or,  the  Woman  with  many  Husbands. 
By  Eugene  Sue.  Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

FIRST  LOVE.  A  Story  of  the  Heart.  By  Eugene  Sue.  Price  Twenty- 
five  cents. 

WOMAN'S  LOVE.  A  Novel.  By  Eugene  Sue.  Illustrated.  Prise 
Twenty-five  cents. 

MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN.  A  Tale  of  the  Sea.  By  Eugene  Sue.  Price 
Twenty-five  cents. 

RAOUL  DE  SURVILLE;  or,  the  Times  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  1810. 
Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

SIR  E.  L.  BULWER'S  NOVELS. 

FALKLAND.     A  Novel.     By  Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer,  author  of  "The  Roue," 

"  Oxonians,"  etc.     One  volume,  octavo.     Price  25  cents. 
THE  ROUE;  OR  THE  HAZARDS  OF  WOMEN.     Price  25  cents. 
THE  OXONIANS.     A  Sequel  to  the  Roue.     Price  25  cents. 
CALDERON  THE  COURTIER.     By  Bulwer.     Price  12£  cents. 

MRS.  GREY'S  NOVELS. 

Either  of  which  can  be  had  separately.     Price  25  cents  each.     They  are 
printed  on  the  finest  white  paper,  and  each  forms  one  large  octavo  volume, 
complete  in  itself,  neatly  bound  in  a  strong  paper  cover. 
DUKE  AND  THE  COUSIN.  THE  YOUNG  PRTMA  DONNA. 

GIPSY'S  DAUGHTER.  THE  OLD  DOWER  HOUSE. 

BELLE  OF  THE  FAMILY.  HYACINTHE. 

SYBIL  LENNARD.  ALICE  SEYMOUR. 

THE  LITTLE  WIFE.  HARRY  MONK. 

MANOEUVRING  MOTHER.  MARY  SEAHAM.     250   pages. 

LENA    CAMERON;    or.    the   Four  Price  50  cents. 

Sisters.  PASSION  AND    PRINCIPLE. 

THE  BARONET'S  DAUGHTERS.  200  pages.     Price  50  cents. 

GEORGE  W.  M.  REYNOLD'S  WORKS. 

THE  NECROMANCER.     A  Romance  of  the  times  of  Henry  the  Eighth. 

By  G.  W.  M.  Reynolds.     One  large  volume.      Price  75  cents. 
THE  PARRICIDE:  OR,  THE  YOUTH'S   CAREER   IN  CRIME.     By 

G.  W.  M.  Reynolds.     Full  of  beautiful  illustrations.     Price  50  cents. 
LIFE  IN  PARIS :  OR,  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ALFRED  DE  ROSANN 

IN  THE  METROPOLIS   OF  FRANCE.     By  G.  W.  M.  Reynolds. 

Full  of  Engravings.     Price  50  cents. 


8       T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS. 
AINSWORTH'S  WORKS. 

JACK  SHEPPARD.— PICTORIAL  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF 
JACK  SHEPPARD,  the  most  noted  burglar,  robber,  and  jail  breaker, 
that  ever  lived.  Embellished  with  Thirty-nine,  full  page,  spirited 
Illustrations,  designed  and  engraved  in  the  finest  style  of  art,  by 
George  Cruiksharik,  Esc>.,  of  London.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

ILLUSTRATED  TOWER  OF  LONDON.  With  100  splendid  engravings. 
This  is  beyond  all  doubt  one  of  the  most  interesting  works  ever 
published  in  the  known  world,  and  can  be  read  and  re-read  with 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  by  everybody.  We  advise  all  persons  to 
get  it  and  read  it.  Two  volumes,  octavo.  Price  One  Dollar. 

PICTORIAL  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  GUY  FAWKES,  The 
Chief  of  the  Gunpowder  Treason.  The  Bloody  Tower,  etc.  Illustrated. 
By  William  Harrison  Aiusworth.  200  pages.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

THE  STAR  CHAMBER.  An  Historical  Romance.  By  W.  Harrison 
Aiusworth.  With  17  large  full  page  illustrations.  Price  50  cents. 

THE  PICTORIAL  OLD  ST.  PAUL'S.  By  William  Harrison  Ainsworth. 
Full  of  Illustrations.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

MYSTERIES  OF  THE  COURT  OF  QUEEN  ANNE.  By  William 
Harrison  Ainsworth.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

MYSTERIES  OF  THE  COURT  OF  THE  STUARTS.  By  Ainsworth. 
Being  one  of  the  most  interesting  Historical  Romances  ever  written. 
One  large  volume.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

DICK   TURPIN.— ILLUSTRATED  LIFE    OF    DICK    TURPIN,   the 

Highwayman,  Burglar,  Murderer,  etc.     Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

HENRY  THOMAS.— LIFE  OF  HARRY  THOMAS,  the  Western  Burglar 
and  Murderer.  Full  of  Engravings.  Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

DESPERADOES.— ILLUSTRATED  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OP 
THE  DESPERADOES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD.  Full  of  engravings. 
Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

NINON  DE  L'ENCLOS.— LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  NINON 
DE  L'ENCLOS,  with  her  Letters  on  Love,  Courtship  and  Marriage. 
Illustrated.  Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

THE  PICTORIAL  NEWGATE  CALENDAR ;  or  the  Chronicles  of  Crime. 
Beautifully  illustrated  with  Fifteen  Engravings.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

PICTORIAL  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  DAVY  CROCKETT. 
Written  by  himself.  Beautifully  illustrated.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  ARTHUR  SPRING,  the  murderer  of 
Mrs.  Ellen  Lynch  and  Mrs.  Honora  Shaw,  with  a  complete  history  of 
his  life  and  misdeeds,  from  the  time  of  his  birth  until  he  was  hung. 
Illustrated  with  portraits.  Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

JACK  ADAMS.— PICTORIAL  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  JACK 
ADAMS;  the  celebrated  Sailor  and  Mutineer.  By  Captain  Chamier, 
author  of  "  The  Spitfire."  Full  of  illustrations.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

GRACE  O'MALLEY.— PICTORIAL  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OP 
GRACE  O'MALLEY.  By  William  H.  Maxwell,  author  of  "  Wild 
Sports  in  the  West."  Price  Fifty  cents. 

THE  PIRATE'S  SON.  A  Sea  Novel  of  great  interest  Full  of  beautiful 
illustrations.  Price  Twenty-five  cents. 


T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.      9 
ALEXANDER  DUMAS'  WORKS. 

THE  IRON  MASK,  OR  THE  FEATS  AND  ADVENTURES  OP 
RAOULE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  Being  the  conclusion  of  "The 
Three  Guardsmen,"  "  Twenty  Years  After,"  and  •'  Bragelonne."  By 
Alexandra  Dumas.  Complete  in  two  largo  volumes,  of  420  octavo 
pages,  with  beautifully  Illustrated  Covers,  Portraits,  and  Engravings. 
Price  One  Dollar. 

LOUISE  LA  VALLIERE;  OR  THE  SECOND  SERIES  AND  FINAL 
END  OF  THE  IRON  MASK.  By  Alexandre  Dumas.  This  work 
is  the  final  end  of  "  The  Three  Guardsmen,"  "  Twenty  Years  After," 
''Bragelonne,"  and  "  The  Iron  Mask,"  and  is  of  far  more  interesting 
and  absorbing  interest,  than  any  of  its  predecessors.  Complete  in 
two  large  octavo  volumes  of  over  400  pages,  printed  on  the  best  of 
paper,  beautifully  illustrated.  It  also  contains  correct  Portraits  of 
"  Louise  La  Valliere,"  and  "  The  Hero  of  the  Iron  Mask."  Price  One 
Dollar. 

THE  MEMOIRS  OF  A  PHYSICIAN;  OR  THE  SECRET  HISTORY  OF 
LOUIS  THE  FIFTEENTH.  By  Alexandre  Dumas.  It  is  beautifully 
embellished  with  thirty  engravings,  which  illustrate  the  principal 
scenes  and  characters  of  the  different  heroines  throughout  the  work. 
Complete  in  two  large  octavo  volumes.  Price  One  Dollar. 

THE  QUEEN'S  NECKLACE  :  OR  THE  SECRET  HISTORY  OF  THE 
COURT  OF  LOUIS  THE  SIXTEENTH.  A  Sequel  to  the  Memoirs 
of  a  Physician.  By  Alexandre  Dumas.  It  is  beautifully  illustrated 
with  portraits  of  the  heroines  of  the  work.  Complete  in  two  large 
octavo  volumes  of  over  400  pages.  Price  One  Dollar. 

SIX  YEARS  LATER;  OR  THE  TAKING  OF  THE  BASTILE.  By 
Alexandre  Dumas.  Being  the  continuation  of  "  The  Queen's  Neck 
lace;  or  the  Secret  History  of  the  Court  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth,"  and 
"Memoirs  of  a  Physician."  Complete  in  one  large  octavo  volume. 
Price  Seventy-five  cents. 

COUNTESS  DE  CHARNY;  OR  THE  FALL  OF  THE  FRENCH 
MONARCHY.  By  Alexandre  Dumas.  This  work  is  the  final  con 
clusion  of  the  "Memoirs  of  a  Physician,"  "The  Queen's  Necklace," 
and  "  Six  Years  Later,  or  Taking  of  the  Bastile."  All  persons  who 
have  not  read  Dumas  in  this,  his  greatest  and  most  instructive  pro 
duction,  should  begin  at  once,  and  no  pleasure  will  be  found  so 
agreeable,  and  nothing  in  novel  form  so  useful  and  absorbing.  Com 
plete  in  two  volumes,  beautifully  illustrated.  Price  One  Dollar. 

DIANA  OF  MERIDOR;  THE  LADY  OF  MONSOREAU;  or  France  in 
the  Sixteenth  Century.  By  Alexandre  Dumas.  An  Historical  Ro 
mance.  Complete  in  two  large  octavo  volumes  of  538  pages,  with 
numerous  illustrative  engravings.  Price  One  Dollar. 

ISABEL  OF  BAVARIA ;  or  the  Chronicles  of  France  for  the  reign  of 
Charles  the  Sixth.  Complete  in  one  fine  octavo  volume  of  211  pages, 
printed  on  the  finest  white  paper.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

EDMOND  DANTES.  Being  the  sequel  to  Dumas'  celebrated  novel  of 
the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo.  With  elegant  illustrations.  Complete  in 
one  large  octavo  volume  of  over  200  pages.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

THE  CORSICAN  BROTHERS.  This  work  has  already  been  dramatized, 
and  is  now  played  in  all  the  theatres  of  Europe  and  in  this  country, 
and  it  is  exciting  an  extraordinary  interest.  Price  Twenty -ave  cents. 


10     T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS. 
ALEXANDRE  DUMAS'  WORKS. 

SKETCHES  IN  FRANCE.  By  Alexandra  Duma?.  It  is  as  good  a 
book  as  Thackeray's  Sketches  in  Ireland.  Dianas  never  wrote  a 
better  book.  It  is  the  most  delightful  book  of  the  season.  Price 
Fifty  cents. 

GENEVIEVE,  OR  THE  CHEVALIER  OF  THE  MATROX  ROUGE. 

By  Alexandra  Duma.?.  An  Historical  Romance  of  the  French  Revo 
lution.  Complete  in  one  large  octavo  volume  of  over  200  pages, 
with  numerous  illustrative  engravings.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

GEORGE  LIPPARD'S  WORKS. 

WASHINGTON  AND  HIS  GENERALS;  or,  Legends  of  the  American 
Revolution.  Complete  in  two  large  octavo  volumes  of  538  pages, 
printed  on  the  finest  white  paper.  Price  One  Dollar. 

THE  QUAKER  CITY;  or,  the  Monks  of  Monk  Hall.  A  Romance  of 
Philadelphia  Life,  Mystery  and  Crime.  Illustrated  with  numerous 
Engravings.  Complete  in  two  large  octavo  volumes  of  500  pages. 
Price  One  Dollar. 

THE  LADYE  OF  ALBARONE;  or,  the  Poison  Goblet.  A  Romance  of 
the  Dark  Ages.  Lippard's  Last  Work,  and  never  before  published. 
Complete  in  one  large  octavo  volume.  Price  Seventy-five  cents. 

PAUL  ARDENHEIM;  the  Monk  of  Wissahickon.  A  Romance  of  the 
Revolution.  Illustrated  with  numerous  engravings.  Complete  in. 
two  large  octavo  volumes,  of  nearly  600  pages.  Price  One  Dollar. 

BLANCHE  OF  BRANDYWINE ;  or,  September  the  Eleventh,  1777.  A 
Romance  of  the  Poetry,  Legends,  and  History  of  the  Battle  of  Brandy- 
wine.  It  makes  a  large  octavo  volume  of  350  pages,  printed  on  the 
finest  white  paper.  Price  Seventy-five  cents. 

LEGENDS  OF  MEXICO;  or,  Battles  of  General  Zachary  Taylor,  late 
President  of  the  United  States.  Complete  in  one  octavo  volume  of 
128  pages.  Price  Twenty-five  cents. 

THE  NAZARENE;  or,  the  Last  of  the  Washingtons.  A  Revelation  of 
Philadelphia,  New  York,  and  Washington,  in  the  year  1844.  Com 
plete  in  one  volume.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

B.  D'ISRAELrS  NOVELS. 

VIVIAN  GREY.  By  B.  D'Israeli,  M.  P.  Complete  in  one  large  octavo 
volume  of  225  pages.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

THE  YOUNG  DUKE  ;  or  the  younger  days  of  George  the  Fourth.  By 
B.  D'Israeli,  M.  P.  One  octavo  volume.  Price  Thirty-eight  cents., 

VENETIA;  or,  Lord  Byron  and  his  Daughter.  By  B.  D'Israeli,  M.  P. 
Complete  in  one  large  octavo  volume.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

HENRIETTA  TEMPLE.  A  Lovo  Story.  By  B.  D'Israeli,  M.  P.  Com. 
plete  in  one  large  octavo  volume.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

CONTARINA  FLEMING.  An  Autobiography.  By  B.  D'Israeli,  M.  P. 
One  volume,  octavo.  Price  Thirty-eight  cents. 

MIRIAM  ALROY.  A  Romance  of  the  Twelfth  Century.  By  B.  D'Israeli, 
M.  P.  One  volume  octavo.  Price  Thirty-eight  cents. 


T,  B,  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.      11 
EMERSON  BENNETT'S  WORKS. 

CLARA  MORELAND.  This  is  a  powerfully  written  romance.  The 
characters  are  boldly  drawn,  the  plot  striking,  the  incidents  replete 
with  thrilling  interest,  and  the  language  and  descriptions  natural  and 
graphic,  as  are  all  of  Mr.  Bennett's  Works.  330  pages.  Price  50 
cents  in  paper  cover,  or  One  Dollar  in  cloth,  gilt. 

VIOLA;     OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE   FAR  SOUTH-WEST.     Com 

pleto  in  one  large  volume.    Price  50  cents  in  paper  cover,  or  75  cents 
in  cloth,  gilt. 

THE  FORGED  WILL.  Complete  in  one  large  volume,  of  over  300 
pages,  paper  cover,  price  50  cents;  or  bound  in  cloth,  gilt,  price  $1  00. 

KATE  CLARENDON;  OR,  NECROMANCY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 
Price  50  cents  in  paper  cover,  or  75  cents  in  cloth,  gilt. 

BRIDE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  Complete  in  one  large  v,olume. 
Price  50  cents  in  paper  cover,  or  75  cents  in  cloth,  gilt. 

THE  PIONEER'S  DAUGHTER:  and  THE  UNKNOWN  COUNTESS. 
By  Emerson  Bennett.  Price  50  cents. 

HEIRESS  OF  BELLEFONTE :  and  WALDE-WARREN.  A  Tale  of 
Circumstantial  Evidence.  By  Emerson  Bennett.  Price  50  cents. 

ELLEN  NORBURY;  OR,  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  ORPHAN. 
Complete  in  one  large  volume,  price  50  cents  in  paper  cover,  or  in 
cloth  gilt,  $1  00. 

MISS  LESLIE'S  NEW  COOK  BOOK. 

MISS  LESLIE'S  NEW  RECEIPTS  FOR  COOKING.  Comprising  new 
and  approved  methods  of  preparing  all  kinds  of  soups,  fish,  oysters, 
terrapins,  turtle,  vegetables,  meats,  poultry,  game,  sauces,  pickles, 
sweet  meats,  cakes,  pies,  puddings,  confectionery,  rice,  Indian  meal 
preparations  of  all  kinds,  domestic  liquors,  perfumery,  remedies, 
laundry-work,  needle-work,  letters,  additional  receipts,  etc.  Also, 
list  of  articles  suited  to  go  together  for  breakfasts,  dinners,  and  sup 
pers,  and  much  useful  information  and  many  miscellaneous  subjects 
connected  with  general  house-wifery.  It  is  an  elegantly  printed  duo 
decimo  volume  of  520  pages;  and  in  it  there  will  be  found  One  Thou 
sand  and  Eleven  new  Receipts — all  useful — some  ornamental — and  all 
invaluable  to  every  lady,  miss,  or  family  in  the  world.  This  work  has 
had  a  very  extensive  sale,  and  many  thousand  copies  have  been  sold, 
and  the  demand  is  increasing  yearly,  being  the  most  complete  work 
of  the  kind  published  in  the  world,  and  also  the  latest  and  best,  as, 
in  addition  to  Cookery,  its  receipts  for  making  cakes  and  confec 
tionery  are  unequalled  by  any  other  work  extant.  New  edition,  en 
larged  and  improved,  and  handsomely  bound.  Price  One  Dollar  a 
copy  only.  This  is  the  only  new  Cook  Book  by  Miss  Leslie. 

GEORGE  SANDS'  WORKS. 

FIRST  AND  TRUE  LOVE.  A  True  Love  Story.  By  George  Sand, 
author  of  '•  Consuelo,"  "  Indiana,"  etc.  It  is  one  of  the  most  charm 
ing  and  interesting  works  ever  published.  Illustrated.  Price  50  cents. 

INDIANA.  By  George  Sand,  author  of  "First  and  True  Love/' etc. 
A  very  bewitching  and  interesting  work.  Price  50  cents. 

THE  CORSAIR.     A  Venetian  Tale.     Price  25  cents. 


12     T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS 


HUMOROUS  AMERICAN  WORKS. 

WITH  ORIGINAL  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  DARLEY  AND   OTHERS, 

AND  BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUMINATED  COVERS. 

We  have  just  published  new  and  beautiful  editions  of  the  following 
HUMOROUS  AMERICAN  WORKS.  They  are  published  in  the  bett 
possible  style,  full  of  original  Illustrations,  by  Darley,  descriptive  of  all  Mio 
best  scenes  in  each  work,  with  Illuminated  Covers,  with  new  and  beautiful 
designs  on  each,  and  are  printed  on  the  finest  and  best  of  white  paper. 
There  are  no  works  to  compare  with  them  in  point  of  wit  and  humor,  in 
the  whole  world.  The  price  of  each  work  is  Fifty  cents  only. 

THE  FOLLOWING  ARE  THE  NAMES  OF  THE  WORKS. 

MAJOR  JONES'  COURTSHIP:  detailed,  with  other  Scenes,  Incidents, 
and  Adventures,  in  a  Series  of  Letters,  by  himself.  With  Thirteen 
Illustrations  from  designs  by  Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

DRAMA  IN  POKERVILLE:  the  Bench  and  Bar  of  Jurytown,  and 
other  Stories.  By  "Everpoint,"  (J.  M.  Field,  of  the  St.  Louis 
Reveille.)  With  Illustrations  from  designs  by  Darley.  Fifty  cents. 

CHARCOAL  SKETCHES ;  or,  Scenes  in  the  Metropolis.  By  Joseph  C. 
Neal,  author  of  "  Jreter  Ploddy,"  "Misfortunes  of  Peter  Faber,"  etc. 
With  Illustrations.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

YANKEE  AMONGST  THE  MERMAIDS,  and  other  Waggeries  and 
Vagaries,  '.4y  W  E.  Burton,  Comedian.  With  Illustrations  by 
Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

MISFORTUNES  OF  PETER  FABER,  and  other  Sketches.  By  the 
author  of  "Charcoal  Sketches."  With  Illustrations  by  Darley  and 
others.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

MAJOR  JONES'  SKETCHES  OF  TRAVEL,  comprising  the  Scenes, 
Incidents,  and  Adventures  in  his  Tour  from  Georgia  to  Canada. 
With  Eight  Illustrations  from  Designs  by  Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

STREAKS  OF  SQUATTER  LIFE,  and  Far  West  Scenes.  A  Series  of 
humorous  Sketches,  descriptive  of  Incidents  and  .Character  in  the 
Wild  West.  By  the  author  of  "Major  Jones'  Courtship,"  "  Swallow 
ing  Oysters  Alive,"  etc.  With  Illustrations  from  designs  by  Darley, 
Price  Fifty  cents. 

QUARTER  RACE  IN  KENTUCKY,  AND  OTHER  STORIES.  Bv 
AV.  T.  Porter,  Esq.,  of  the  New  York  Spirit  of  the  Times.  With 
Eight  Illustrations  and  designs  by  Darley.  Complete  in  one  volume. 
Price  Fifty  cents. 

SIMON  SUGGS.— ADVENTURES  OF  CAPTAIN  SIMON  SUGGS,  late 
of  the  Tallapoosa  Volunteers,  together  with  "Taking  the  Census," 
and  other  Alabama  Sketches.  By  a  Country  Editor.  With  a  Portrait 
from  Life,  and  Nine  other  Illustrations  by  Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents 

RIVAL  BELLES.  By  J.  B.  Jones,  author  of  "Wild  Western  Scenes/ 
etc.  This  is  a  very  humorous  and  entertaining  work,  and  one  th  •/ 
will  be  recommended  by  all  after  reading  it.  Price  Fifty  cents. 


T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.     13 
HUMOEOUS  AMEEICAN  WOEKS. 

YANKEE  YARNS  AND  YANKEE  LETTERS.  By  Sam  Slick,  alias 
Judge  Haliburton.  Full  of  the  drollest  humor  that  has  ever  emanated 
from  the  pen  of  any  author.  Every  page  will  sot  you  in  a  roar. 
Price  Fifty  cents. 

LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  COL.  YANDERBOMB,  AND  THE 
EXPLOITS  OF  HIS  PRIVATE  SECRETARY.  By  J.  B.  Jones, 
author  of  "  The  Rival  Belles,"  "  Wild  Western  Scenes,"  etc.  Price 
Fifty  cents. 

BIG  BEAR  OF  ARKANSAS,  and  other  Sketches,  illustrative  of  Charac 
ters  and  Incidents  in  the  South  and  South-West.  Edited  by  Win.  T. 
Porter.  With  Illustrations  by  Barley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

MAJOR  JONES'  CHRONICLES  OF  PINEVILLE;  embracing  Sketches 
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LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  PERCIVAL  MABERRY.  By  J.  H. 
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good  laugh  should  get  it  at  once.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

FRANK  FORESTER'S  QUORNDON  HOUNDS;  or,  A  Virginian  at 
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Price  Fifty  cents. 

PICKINGS  FROM  THE  PORTFOLIO  OF  THE  REPORTER  OF  THE 
"NEW  ORLEANS  PICAYUNE."  Comprising  Sketches  of  the 
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society  in  the  great  Metropolis  of  the  South.  With  Illustrations  by 
Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

FRANK  FORESTER'S  SHOOTING  BOX.  By  the  author  of  "The 
Quorndon  Hounds,"  "  The  Deer  Stalkers,"  etc.  With  Illustrations  by 
Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

STRAY  SUBJECTS  ARRESTED  AND  BOUND  OVER;  being  the 
Fugitive  Oifspring  of  the  "Old  Un"  and  the  "Young  Un,"  that  have 
been  "  Laying  Around  Loose,"  and  are  now  "  tied  up"  for  fast  keep 
ing.  With  Illustrations  by  Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

FRANK  FORESTER'S  DEER  STALKERS  ;  a  Tale  of  Circumstantial 
evidence.  By  the  author  of  "  My  Shooting  Box,"  "The  Quorndon 
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ADVENTURES  OF  CAPTAIN  FARRAGO.  By  Hon.  H.  H.  Bracken- 
ridge.  For  Sixteen  years  one  of  the  Judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania.  With  Illustrations  from  designs  by  Darley. 
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THE  CHARMS  OF  PARIS;  or,  Sketches  of  Travel  and  Adventures  by 
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private  journal.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

PETER  PLODDY,  and  other  oddities.  By  the  author  of  "Charcoal 
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WIDOW  RUGBY'S  HUSBAND,  a  Night  at  the  Ugly  Man's,  and  other 
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Illustrations.  Price  Fifty  cents. 


14     T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS. 
HUMOROUS  AMERICAN  WORKS, 

MAJOR  O'REGAN'S  ADVENTURES.  By  lion.  11.  II.  Brackenridge. 
With  Illustrations  by  Durley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

SOL.  SMITH  ;  THEATRICAL  APPRENTICESHIP  AND  ANECDOTAL 
RECOLLECTIONS  OF  SOL.  SMITH,  Esq.,  Comedian,  Lawyer, 
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in  the  West,  Cincinnati  in  Early  Life,  etc.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

SOL.  SMITH'S  NEW  BOOK;  THE  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK 
AND  ANECDOTAL  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  SOL.  SMITH,  Esq., 
with  a  portrait  of  Sol.  Smith.  It  comprises  a  Sketch  of  the  second 
Seven  years  of  his  professional  life,  together  with  some  Sketches  of 
Adventure  in  after  years.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

POLLY  PEABLOSSOM'S  WEDDING,  and  other  Tales.  By  the  author 
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Fifty  cents. 

FRANK  FORESTER'S  WARWICK  WOODLANDS;  or,  Things  as 
they  were  Twenty  Years  Ago.  By  the  author  of  "  The  Quorndon 
Hounds,"  "My  Shooting  Box,"  "The  Deer  Stalkers,"  etc.  With 
Illustrations,  illuminated.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

LOUISIANA  SWAMP  DOCTOR.  By  Madison  Tensas,  M.  D.,  Ex.  V.  P. 
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tions  by  Darley.  Price  Fifty  cents. 

NEW  ORLEANS  SKETCH  BOOK,  by  "Stahl,"  author  of  the  "Port 
folio  of  a  Southern  Medical  Student."  With  Illustrations  from 
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TRENCH,  GERMAN,  SPANISH,  LATIN,  AND 
ITALIAN  LANGUAGES. 

Any  person  unacquainted  with  either  of  the  above  languages,  can,  with 
the  aid  of  these  works,  be  enabled  to  read,  icritc  and  speak  the  language  of 
either,  without  the  aid  of  a  teacher  or  any  oral  instruction  whatever,  pro 
vided  they  pay  strict  attention  to  the  instructions  laid  down  in  each  book, 
and  that  nothing  shall  be  passed  over,  without  a  thorough  investigation 
of  the  subject  it  involves  :  by  doing  which  they  will  be  able  to  speak,  read 
or  write  either  language,  at  their  will  and  pleasure.  Either  of  these  works 
is  invaluable  to  any  persons  wishing  to  learn  these  languages,  and  are 
•worth  to  any  one  One  Hundred  times  their  cost.  These  works  have 
already  run  through  several  large  editions  in  this  country,  for  no  person 
ever  buys  one  without  recommending  it  to  his  friends. 

FRENCH  WITHOUT  A  MASTER.     In  Six  Easy  Lessons. 
GERMAN  WITHOUT  A  MASTER.     In  Six  Easy  Lessons. 
SPANISH  WITHOUT  A  MASTER.     In  Four  Easy  Lessons. 
ITALIAN  WITHOUT  A  MASTER.     In  Five  Easy  Lessonj. 
LATIN   WITHOUT  A  MASTER.      In  Six  Easy  Lessons. 

Price  of  either  of  the  above  Works,  separate,  25  cents  each — or  the 
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any  one  on  their  remitting  that  amount  to  the  publisher,  in  a  letter. 


T,  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.     15 
WORKS  BY  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 

FLIRTATIONS  IN  AMERICA;  OR  HIGH  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.    A 

capital  book.     285  pages.     Price  50  cents. 

DON  QUIXOTTE.— ILLUSTRATED  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF 
DON  QUIXOTTE  DE  LA  MANCHA,  and  his  Squire  Saucho  Panza, 
with  all  the  original  notes.  300  pages.  Price  75  cents. 

WILD  SPORTS  IN  THE  WEST.  By  W.  II.  Maxwell,  author  of  «  Pic 
torial  Life  and  Adventures  of  Grace  O'Malley."  Price  50  cents. 

THE  ROMISH  CONFESSIONAL  j  or,  the  Auricular  Confession  and  Spi 
ritual  direction  of  the  Romish  Church.  Its  History,  Consequences, 
and  policy  of  the  Jesuits.  By  M.  Michelet.  Price  50  cents. 

GENEVRA  ;  or,  the  History  of  a  Portrait.  By  Miss  Fairfield,  one  of  the 
best  writers  in  America.  200  pages.  Price  50  cents. 

WILD  OATS  SOWN  ABROAD  ;  OR,  ON  AND  OFF  SOUNDINGS.  It 
is  the  Private  Journal  of  a  Gentleman  of  Leisure  and  Education,  and 
of  a  highly  cultivated  mind,  in  making  the  tour  of  Europe.  It  shows 
up  all  the  High  and  Low  Life  to  be  found  in  all  the  fashionable  re 
sorts  in  Paris.  Price  50  cents  in  paper  cover,  or  75  cents  in  cloth,  gilt. 

SALATHIEL;  OR,  THE  WANDERING  JEW.  By  Rev.  George  Croly. 
One  of  the  best  and  most  world-wide  celebrated  books  that  has  ever 
been  printed.  Price  50  cent?. 

LLORENTE'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  INQUISITION  IN  SPAIN.  Only 
edition  published  in  this  country.  Price  50  cents;  or  handsomely 
bound  in  muslin,  gilt,  price  75  cents. 

DR.   HOLLICK'S   NEW   BOOK.     ANATOMY    AND    PHYSIOLOGY, 

with  a  large  dissected  plate  of  the  Human  Figure,  colored  to  Life. 
By  the  celebrated  Dr.  Ilollick,  author  of  "  The  Family  Physician," 
"  Origin  of  Life,"  etc.  Price  One  Dollar. 

DR.  HOLLICK'S  FAMILY  PHYSICIAN;  OR,  THE  TRUE  ART  OF 
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MYSTERIES  OF  THREE  CITIES.  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadel 
phia.  Revealing  the  secrets  of  society  in  these  various  cities.  All 
should  read  it.  By  A.  J.  H.  Duganne.  200  pages.  Price  50  cents. 

RED  INDIANS  OF  NEWFOUNDLAND.  A  beautifully  illustrated  In 
dian  Story,  by  the  author  of  the  "  Prairie  Bird."  Price  50  cents. 

HARRIS'S  ADVENTURES  IN  AFRICA.  This  book  is  a  rich  treat. 
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THE  PETREL;  OR,  LOVE  ON  THE  OCEAN.  A  sea  novel  equal  to  the 
best.  By  Admiral  Fisher.  200  pages.  Price  50  cents. 

ARISTOCRACY,  OR  LIFE  AMONG  THE  "UPPER  TEN."  A  true 
novel  of  fashionable  life.  By  J.  A.  Nunes,  Esq.  Price  50  cents. 

THE  CABIN  AND  PARLOR.  By  J.  Thornton  Randolph.  It  is 
beautifully  illustrated.  Price  50  cents  in  paper  cover  ;  or  a  finer  edi 
tion,  printed  on  thicker  and  better  paper,  and  handsomely  bound  in 
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LIFE  IN  THE  SOUTH.  A  companion  to  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  By 
C.  II.  Wiley.  Beautifully  illustrated  from  original  designs  by  Dai- 
ley.  Price  50  cents. 


16     T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS. 
WORKS  BY  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 

SKETCHES  IN  IRELAND.  By  William  M.  Thackeray,  author  of 
"Vanity  Fair,"  "History  of  Pendennis,"  etc.  Price  50  cents. 

THE  ROMAN  TRAITOR;  OR.  THE  DAYS  OF  CATALINE  AND 
CICERO.  By  Henry  William  Herbert.  This  is  one  of  the  most 
powerful  Roman  stories  in  the  English  language,  and  is  of  itself  suffi 
cient  to  stamp  the  writer  as  a  powerful  man.  Complete  in  two  largo 
volumes,  of  over  250  pages  each,  paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar,  or 
bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1  25. 

THE  LADY'S  WORK-TABLE  BOOK.  Full  of  plates,  designs,  diagrams, 
and  illustrations  to  learn  all  kinds  of  needlework.  A  work  every 
Lady  should  possess.  Price  50  cents  in  paper  cover;  or  bound  in 
crimson  cloth,  gilt,  for  75  cents. 

THE  COQUETTE.  One  of  the  best  books  ever  written.  One  volume,  oc 
tavo,  over  200  pages.  Price  50  cents. 

WHITEFRIARS;  OR,  THE  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  An 
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WHITEHALL ;  OR,  THE  TIMES  OF  OLIVER  CROMWELL.  By  the 
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THE  SPITFIRE.  A  Nautical  Romance.  By  Captain  Chamier,  author 
of  "  Lite  and  Adventures  of  Jack  Adams."  Illustrated.  Price  50  cents. 

UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN  AS  IT  IS.  One  large  volume,  illustrated, 
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FATHER  CLEMENT.  By  Grace  Kennady,  author  of  "  Dunallen," 
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THE  ABBEY  OF  INNISMOYLE.  By  Grace  Kennady,  author  of  "  Fa 
ther  Clement."  Equal  to  any  of  her  former  works.  Price  25  cents. 

THE  FORTUNE  HUNTER;  a  novel  of  New  York  society,  Upper  and 
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POCKET  LIBRARY  OF  USEFUL  KNOWLEDGE.  New  and  enlarged 
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HENRY  CLAY'S  PORTRAIT.  Nagle's  correct,  full  length  Mczzotinto 
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THE  MIRER'S  HEIR;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  MILLIONAIRE.  A  story 
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T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.     17 
WORKS  BY  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 

THE  TWO  LOVERS.  A  Domestic  Story.  It  is  a  highly  interesting  ard 
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ARRAH  NEIL.     A  novel  by  G.  P.  R.  James.     Price  50  cents. 

SIEGE  OF  LONDONDERRY.    A  History  of  the  Siege  of  Londonderry, 

and   Defence    of  Enniskillen,  in    1688  and   1689,  by  the  Rev.  John 

Graham.     Price  37  cents. 
VICTIMS  OF  AMUSEMENTS.    By  Martha  Clark,  and  dedicated  by  the 

author  to  the  Sabbath  Schools  of  the  land.     One  vol.,  cloth,  38  cents. 

FREAKS  OF  FORTUNE ;  or,  The  Life  and  Adventures  of  Ned  Lorn. 
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WORKS  AT  TWENTY-FIVE   CENTS  EACH. 

GENTLEMAN'S  SCIENCE  OF  ETIQUETTE,  AND  GUIDE  TO  SO- 
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LADIES'  SCIENCE  OF  ETIQUETTE.  By  Countess  de  Calabrella,  with 
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ELLA  STRATFORD  ;  OR,  THE  ORPHAN  CHILD.  By  the  Countess 
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GHOST  STORIES.  Full  of  illustrations.  Being  a  Wonderful  Book. 
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ADMIRAL'S  DAUGHTER.  By  Mrs.  Marsh,  author  of  "  Ravens- 
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THE  MONK.  A  Romance.  By  Matthew  G.  Lewis,  Esq.,  M.  P.  All 
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DIARY  OF  A  PHYSICIAN.  Second  Series.  By  S.  C.  Warren,  author 
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ABEDNEGO,  THE  MONEY  LENDER.    By  Mrs.  Gore.     Price  25  cents. 

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JOSEPHINE.  A  Story  of  the  Heart.  By  Grace  Aguilar,  author  of 
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18     T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS. 
WORKS  AT  TWENTY-FIVE  CENTS  EACH. 

KNOWLSON'S  COMPLETE  CATTLE,  OR  COW  DOCTOR.  Whoever 
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MYSTERIES  OF  A  CONVENT.  By  a  noted  Methodist  Preacher.  Prico 
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THE  DEFORMED.  One  of  the  best  novels  ever  written,  and  THE 
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CHEMISTRY  AND  PHYSICS  IN  RELATION  TO  PHYSIOLOGY 
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T.  B.  PETERSON  also  publishes  a  complete  edition  of  Professor 
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T.  B.  PETERSON'S  LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS.     19 
EXCELLENT  SHILLING  BOOKS. 

THE  SEVEN  POOR  TRAVELLERS.  By  Charles  Dickens.  Price  12$  cts. 
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LIZZIE  LEIGH,  AND  THE  MINER'S  DAUGHTERS.  By  Charles 
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THE  CHIMES.      By  Charles  Dickens.     Price  12*  cents. 

THE  CRICKET  ON  THE  HEARTH.    Bj  Charles  Dickens.  Price  12*  cts. 

BATTLE  OF  LIFE.     By  Charles  Dickens.     Price  12*  cents. 

HAUNTED  MAN;  AND  THE  GHOST'S  BARGAIN.  By  Charles 
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THE 


BY   EMERSON   BENNETT, 

AUTHOR  OF  "CLARA  MORELANU,"  "VIOLA,"  "  PIONEER'S  DAUGHTER,"  ETC 

THIS  CELEBRATED  AND  BEAUTIFUL  W^KK  is  published  complete  in  one  large 
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THE  FORGED  WILL  is  truly  a  celebrated  work.  It  has  been  running  through 
the  columns  of  the  Philadelphia  Dollar  Newspaper,  where  it  has  been  appearing  for  ten 
weeks,  and  has  proved  itself  to  be  one  of  the  most  popular  nouvelettes  that  has  ever 
appeared  in  the  columns  of  any  newspaper  in  this  country.  Before  the  fourth  paper  ap 
peared,  the  back  numbers,  (although  several  thousand  extra  of  the  three  former  numbers 
were  printed,)  could  not  be  obtained  at  any  price,  and  the  publishers  of  the  paper 
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to  their  paper,  which  induced  the  publisher  to  make  an  arrangement  with  the  popular 
author  to  bring  it  out  in  a  beautiful  style  for  the  thousands  that  wish  it  in  book  form. 

If  Emerson  Bennett  had  never  written  his  many  delightful  and  thrilling  storios  of 
border  life,  of  prairie  scenes,  and  Indian  warfare,  this  new  story  of  the  «  FORGED  WILL' 
Vould  have  placed  his  name  on  the  record  as  one  of  the  best  of  American  novelists.  The 
scenes,  principally,  of  this  most  captivating  novel,  are  laid  in  the  city  of  New  York  ;  and 
most  glowingly  the  author  pictures  to  us  how  the  guilty  may,  for  a  time,  escape  the 
justice  of  the  law,  but  only  to  feel  the  heavy  hand  of  retribution  sooner  or  later;  how 
vice  may,  for  a  time,  triumph  over  virtue,  but  only  for  a  time;  how  crime  may  lie  con 
cealed,  until  its  very  security  breeds  exposure  ;  how  true  virtue  gives  way  to  no  temp 
tation,  but  bears  the  ills  of  life  with  patience,  hoping  for  a  better  day,  and  rejoices 
triumphant  in  the  end.  In  short,  from  base  hypocrisy  he  tears  the  veil  that  hides  its 
huge  deformity,  and  gives  a  true  picture  of  life  as  it  exists  in  the  crowded  city.  We  do 
cordially  recommend  this  book  for  its  excellent  moral.  It  is  one  that  should  be  circulated, 
for  it  must  do  good. 

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CL.ARA  MOREL  AND  ;  or.  Adventures  in  the  Far  Srmth-YTe^t.  Bv  Emerson 
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VIOL,  A  ;  or.  Adventures  in  the  Far  South-West.  By  Emerson  Bennett,  author  of 
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T.  I?.  PETERSON, 
No.   103  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 


VIOLA; 


OR, 


BY  EMERSON  BENNETT, 

AUTHOR  OF  "CLARA  MORELAND,"  "FORGED  WILL,"  "KATE  CLARENDON," 
"BRIDE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS,"  "  WALDE-WARREN,"  "PIONEER'S  DAUGH 
TER,"  ETC.,  ETC. 

BEAD     THE     FOLLOWING     OPINIONS     OF     THE     PRESS: 

"We  have  perused  this  work  with  some  attention,  and  do  not  hesitate  to  pronounce 
it  one  of  the  very  best  productions  of  the  talented  author.  The  scenes  are  laid  in  Texas, 
and  the  adjoining  frontier.  There  is  not  a  page  that  does  not  glow  with  thrilling  and 
interesting  incident,  and  will  well  repay  the  reader  for  the  time  occupied  in  perusing  it. 
The  characters  are  most  admirably  drawn,  and  are  perfectly  natural  throughout.  We 
have  derived  so  much  gratification  from  the  perusal  of  this  charming  novel,  that  we  r.re 
anxious  to  make  our  readers  share  it  with  us;  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  recommend  it 
to  be  read  by  all  persons  who  are  fond  of  romantic  adventures.  Mr.  Bennett  is  a  spi 
rited  and  vigorous  writer,  and  his  works  deserve  to  be  generally  read;  not  only  because 
they  are  well  written,  but  that  they  are,  in  most  part,  taken  from  events  connected 
with  the  history  of  our  own  country,  from  which  much  valuable  information  is  derived, 
and  should,  therefore,  have  a  double  claim  upon  our  preference,  over  those  works  where 
the  incidents  are  gleaned  from  the  romantic  legends  of  old  castles,  and  foreign  climes. 
The  book  is  printed  on  fine  paper,  and  is  in  every  way  got  up  in  a  style  highly  creditable 
to  the  enterprising  publisher." 

"  It  is  a  spirited  tale  of  frontier  life,  of  which  <  Clara  Moreland'  is  the  sequel  and 
conclusion.  Mr.  Bennett  seems  to  delight  in  that  field  of  action  and  adventure,  whers 
rjooper  won  his  laurels  ;  and  which  is  perhaps  the  most  captivating  to  the  general  mind 
of  all  the  walks  of  fiction.  There  has  been,  so  far,  we  think,  a  steady  improvement  in 
his  style  and  stories;  and  his  popularity,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  has  been  and  is  in 
creasing.  One  great  secret  of  the  popularity  of  these  out-door  novels,  as  we  may  call 
them,  is  that  there  is  a  freshness  and  simplicity  of  the  open  air  and  natural  world  about 
them  —  free  from  the  closeness,  intensity  and  artificiality  of  the  gas-ligb'.ed  world  re 
vealed  in  works  that  treat  of  the  vices  and  dissipations  of  large  cities."-  -Philadelphia 
Saturday  Evening  Post. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  best  productions  of  Mr.  Bennett.  The  scenes  are  in  and  near 
Texas.  Every  page  glows  with  thrilling  interest,  and  the  characters  are  well  drawn  and 
sustained.  An  interesting  love  plot  runs  through  the  book,  which  gives  a  faithful  re 
presentation  of  life  in  the  far  South-West.  Mr.  PetonoB  has  issued  VIOLA  in  his  usual 
neat  style,  and  it  is  destined  to  have  a  great  run."  —  Clinton  Tribune. 

"  We  have  received  the  above  work  and  found  time  to  give  it  an  examination.  The 
scenes  are  laid  mostly  in  Texas,  and  pictured  wiv.h  all  the  vividness  for  which  the  au 
thor  is  so  celebrated.  Those  who  are  particularly  fond  of  wild  and  romantic  adventures 
may  safely  calculate  upon  finding  '  Viola'  suited  to  their  taste.  It  is  well  written  and 
handsomely  printed."  —  Daily  Journal,  C/iicago,  III. 

«It  is  a  very  interesting  book.  The  scenes  of  this  most  exciting  and  interesting  Ro 
mance  are  found  in  Texas  before  and  during  the  late  Mexican  war.  It  is  writtec  'vith 
much  spirit  and  pathos,  and  abounds  in  stirring  incidents  and  adventures,  and  has  an 
interesting  and  romantic  love-plot  interwoven  with  it;  and  is  a  faithful  representation 
of  '  Life  in  the  Far  South-West.'  The  author  of  '  VIOLA,'  will  rank  among  the  most 
popular  of  American  Novelists,  and  aided  by  the  great  energy  and  enterprise  of  his  pub 
lisher,  T.  B.  Peterson,  is  fast  becoming  a  general  favorite."  —  Gazette.  Rhinebeck,  N.  Y 
"This  thrilling  and  interesting  novel—  equal  to  anything  the  celebrated  author  ever 
wrote  —  has  been  issued  in  a  fifty  cent  volume;  and  we  would  advise  every  one  who 
wants  to  get  the  value  of  his  money,  to  get  the  book.  Bennett's  works  are  the  most  in 
teresting  of  any  now  published."  —  Western  Emporium,  Germantown,  Ohio. 

THIS  BEAUTIFUL  AND  CELEBRATED  WORK  is  published  complete  in  one  large 
volume  of  near  300  pages,  paper  cover,  price  FIFTY  CENTS  ;  or  the  work  is  handsomely 
bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  gilt,  price  SEVENTY-FIVE  CENTS. 

Copies  of  either  edition  of  the  above  work  will  be  sent  to  any  person  at  all,  to  any 
part  of  the  United  States,  free  of  postage,  on  their  remitting  the  price  of  the  edition  they 
wish,  to  the  publisher,  in  a  letter,  post-paid.  Published  and  for  Sale  by 

T.  15.  PETERSON, 
No.   I0a  Chestnut   Street,  Philadelphia 


THE    ROMAN    TRAITOR; 

OR,    THE    DAYS    OF 

CICERO,  CATO  AND  CATALINE, 


BY  HENRY  WILLIAM  HERBERT, 

AUTHOR  OF   "CROMWELL,"   "THE  BROTHERS,"  ETC. 

BEAD  THE  FOLLOWING  OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS  ABOUT  IT. 

From  the  Philadelphia  Saturday  Courier,  of  Sept.  IQth,  1853. 

"  This  historical  romance  is  the  most  powerfully  wrought  work  which  the  indomitable 
8>onius  of  the  author  has  ever  produced;  and  is  amply  sufficient  of  itself  to  stamp  the 
writer  as  a  powerful  man.  The  startling  schemes  and  plots  which  preceded  the  over 
throw  of  the  great  Roman  Republic,  afford  ample  scope  for  his  well-practised  pen,  and 
we  may  add  he  has  not  only  been  fortunate  in  producing  a  work  of  such  masterly  pre 
tensions,  but  Mr.  Herbert  is  equally  so  in  the  good  taste,  energy,  and  tact  of  his  enter 
prising  publisher.  The  book  is  admirably  brought  out,  and  altogether  may  be  set  down 
as  one  of  Peterson's  '  great  hits'  in  literature." 

From  the  Philadelphia  Daily  Pennsylvania^  of  Sept.  Sth,  1853. 
"  The  author  has  made  one  of  his  happiest  efforts,  and  given  in  this  volume  a  tale 
•which  will  gtaud  the  test  of  the  most  rigid  criticism,  and  be  read  by  all  lovers  of  litera 
ture  that  embodies  the  true,  the  thrilling,  the  powerful,  and  the  sublime.  In  fact,  we 
would  have  thought  it  impossible  to  produce  such  a  tale  of  the  Republic  in  these  latter 
days;  but  here  we  have  it — Sergius  Cataline,  Cethegus,  Cassius,  and  the  rest  of  that 
dark  band  of  conspirators,  are  here  displayed  in  their  true  portraits.  Those  who  have 
read  '  Ballast'  with  care,  will  recognize  the  truthful  portraiture  at  a  glance,  and  see  the 
heroes  01  deep  and  treacherous  villainy  dressed  out  in  their  proper  devil-doing  character. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  have  Cicero,  the  orator  and  true  friend  of  the  Commonwealth 
of  Rome.  We  have  also  his  noble  cotemporaries  and  coadjutors,  all  in  this  volume. 
Would  that  space  permitted  for  a  more  extended  notice,  but  we  are  compelled  to  forbear. 
Ono  thing  is  certain — if  this  book  contained  nothing  more  than  the  story  of  Paullus 
Arvina,  it  would  be  a  tale  of  thrilling  interest." 

From  the  Cleveland,  Ohio,  True  Democrat,  of  Sept.  8th,  1853. 

"  Those  who  have  perused  the  former  works  of  this  distinguished  author,  will  not 
fail  to  procure  this  book— It  is  a  thrilling  romance,  and  the  characters  brox^ht  for 
ward,  and  the  interest  with  which  they  are  constantly  invested,  wiU  insure  for  it  a 
great  run." 

From  the  Philadelphia  City  Item,  of  Sept.  10th,  1853. 

"The  Roman  Traitor  demands  earnest  commendation.  It  is  a  powerful  production — 
perhaps  the  highest  effort  of  the  brilliant  and  successful  author.  A  thorough  historian 
and  a  careful  thinker,  he  is  well  qualified  to  write  learnedly  of  any  period  of  the  world's 
history.  The  book  is  published  in  tasteful  style,  and  will  adorn  the  centre-table." 

From  the  Boston  Evening  Transcript,  of  Se.pt.  6th,  1853. 

"  This  is  a  powerfully  written  tale,  filled  with  the  thrilling  incidents  which  have  made 
the  period  of  which  it  speaks  one  of  the  darkest  in  the  history  of  the  Roman  Republic 
The  lovers  of  excitement  will  find  in  its  pages  ample  food  to  gratify  a  taste  for  the  darkei 
phases  of  life's  drama." 

From  the  Philadelphia  Sunday  Dispatch,  of  Sept.  4th,  1853. 

"  Cataline's  conspiracy  has  been  selected  by  Mr.  Herbert  as  the  subject  of  this  story 
Taking  the  historical  incidents  as  recorded  by  the  most  authentic  authors,  he  has  wove? 
around  them  a  net-work  of  incident,  love  and  romance,  which  is  stirring  and  exciting 
The  faithful  manner  in  which  the  author  has  adhered  to  history,  and  the  graphic  style 
In  which  his  descriptions  abound,  stamp  this  as  one  of  the  most  excellent  of  his  many 
(uccessful  novels." 

Price  for  the  complete  work,  in  two  volumes,  in  paper  cover,  One  Dollar  only ;  or  a 
finer  edition,  printed  on  thicker  and  better  paper,  and  handsomely  bound  in  one  volume 
munlin,  gilt,  is  published  for  One  Dollar  and  Twenty-five  Cents 

Copies  of  either  edition  of  the  work  will  be  sent  to  any  person  at  all,  to  any  part  of 
the  United  States,  free  of  postage,  on  their  remitting  the  price  of  the  edition  they  wish 
to  the  publisher,  in  a  letter,  post-paid.  Published  and  for  sale  by 

T.  B.  PETERSON, 
32  No.  109  Cheatnut  Street,  Philadelphia* 


THE    INITIALS 

A  STORY  OF  MODERN  LIFE 


Complete  in  two  voJs.,  paper  cover,  Price  One  Dollar  $  or 

bound  in  one  vol.,  cloth.    Price  One  JL>ollar  and 

Twenty-Five   Cents  a  copy. 


T.  B.  PETERSON,  NO.  102  CHESTNUT  STREET,  PHILADELPHIA, 
nas  just  published  this  celebrated  and  world-renowned  work..  It  will  be 
found  on  perusal  to  be  one  of  the  best,  as  it  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
works  ever  published  in  the  English  language,  and  will  live,  and  con 
tinue  to  be  read  for  generations  to  come,  and  rank  by  the  «de  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  celebrated  novels. 

READ  THE  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  The  Letter. 

II.  The  Initials 

in.  A.  Z. 

iv.  A  Walk  of  no  common  De 
scription. 

v.  An  Alp. 

vi.  Secularized  Cloisters, 

vn.  An  Excursion,  and  Return  to 
the  Secularized  Cloisters. 

vni.  An  Alpine  Party, 

ix.  Salzburg. 

x.  The  Return  to  Munich. 

xi.  The  Betrothal, 

xii.  Domestic  Details. 

Xin.  A  Truce. 

xiv.  A  New  Way  to  Learn  G  erman. 

xv.  The  October  Fete.    A  Lesson 
on  Propriety  of  Conduct. 

xvi.  The  Au  Fair.     The  Supper, 

xvn.  Lovers'  Quarrels, 

xvin.  The  Churchyard. 

xix.  German  Soup. 

xx.  The  Warning. 

xxi.  The  Struggle. 

xxn.  The  Departure, 

xxin.  The  Long  Day. 

xxiv.  The    Christmas     Tree,    and 
Midnight  Mass. 


CHAPTER 

xxv. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

XLI. 

XLII. 
XLIII. 
XLIV. 

XLV. 


XLVI. 
XLVII. 


The  Garret. 

The  Discussion. 

The  Sledge. 

A  Ball  at  the  Museum  Cluis. 

A  Day  of  Freedom. 

The  Masquerade. 

Where  is  the  Bridegroom  V 

The  Wedding  atTroisieme. 

A  Change. 

The  Arrangement. 

The  Difficulty  Removed. 

The  Iron  Works. 

An  Unexpected  Meeting, 
and  its  Consequences. 

The  Experiment. 

The  Recall. 

Hohenfels. 

The  Scheiben-Schiessen, 
(Target  Shooting- Match.) 

A  Discourse. 

Another  kind  of  Discourse. 

The  Journey  Home  Com 
mences. 

What  occurred  at  the  Hotel 
D'Ane;le-terre  in  Frank 
fort. 

Halt! 

Conclusion. 


Copies  of  either  edition  of  the  work  will  be  sent  to  any  person,  to  any 
part  of  the  United  States,  free  of  postage,  on  their  remitting  the  price  of 
the  edition  they  may  wish,  to  the  publisher,  in  a  letter. 

Published  and  for  sale  by  T.  B.  PETERSON, 

No.  102  Chestnut  St.,  Philadelphia 
To  whom  all  Orders  should  be  addressed,  post-paid.,        (68) 


Notices  of  the  Press  below. 


BY    EMERSON    BENNETT. 

Price  Fifty  Cents  in  Paper  Cover  ;  or,  One  Dollar  in  Cloth,  Gilt 


BEAD  THE  FOLLOWING  OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 

"  This  is  decidedly  the  best  novel  Mr.  Bennett  has  written.  He  tells  his  story  well, 
and  while  leading  the  reader  over  the  prairies  of  Texas  into  the  haunts  of  the  wild 
Indians,  or  among  the  equally  savage  bands  of  lawless  men,  that  once  were  the  terror 
of  that  country;  he  presents  the  remarkable  transitions  in  the  fortunes  of  his  hero, in. 
a  manner  which,  though  often  startling,  are  yet  within  the  bounds  of  probability.  His 
dialogue  is  good,  growing  easily  out  of  the  situation  and  condition  of  the  interlocutors, 
and  presenting  occasionally,  especially  in  response,  an  epigrammatic  poise,  that  is 
worthy  of  all  praise.  The  plot  abounds  with  adventure,  and  presents  many  scenes  of 
startling  interest,  while  the  denouement  is  such  as  to  amply  satisfy  the  most  fastidious 
reader's  ideas  of  poetical  justice.  We  would  add  a  few  words  of  praise  for  the  excellent 
style  in  which  this  book  is  gotten  up.  It  is  well  printed  on  good  paper,  and  bound  in  a 
manm,.'  to  correspond  with  the  quality  of  its  typography."— Arthur's  Home  Gazette. 

"This  is  the  best  of  Mr.  Bennett's  books.  It  is  a  brilliant  and  thrilling  production, 
and  will  particularly  interest  all  who  love  to  read  of  life  in  the  West  and  South-West. 
A  love  story  runs  through  the  volume,  lending  grace  and  finish  to  it  Mr.  Peterson  has 
issued  the  book  in  very  handsome  style;  the  type  is  new  and  of  honest  size,  the  binding 
is  strong  and  pretty,  the  paper  is  firm  and  white,  and  the  embellishments  are  eminently 
creditable.  Clara  Moreland  sho-uld  command  a  large  sale." — Philadelphia  Oily  Item. 

"On  looking  more  carefully  through  this  racy,  spirited  narrative  of  thrilling  scenes 
and  well-told  adventures,  we  meet  with  beauties  that  escape  a  casual  observation.  Mr. 
Bennett  is  a  keen  discoverer  of  character,  and  paints  his  portraits  so  true  to  nature  aa 
to  carry  the  reader  with  him  through  all  his  wild  wanderings  and  with  unabated 
interest.  The  author  of  '  Clara  Moreland'  takes  rank  among  the  most  popular  Ameri 
can  novelists,  and  aided  by  the  great  energy  of  his  publisher  is  fast  becoming  a  general 
favorite." — McMackin's  Model  Saturday  Courier. 

"  Emerson  Bennett  has  written  some  very  creditable  productions.  This  is  one  of  his 
longest,  and  is  well  received.  Mr.  Bennett  is  a  favorite  author  with  Western  readers. 
It  is  illustrated  and  well  printed." — Philadelphia  Dollar  Newspaper. 

"  It  is  a  tale  of  wild  border  life  and  exciting  incident,  bustle,  and  turmoil." — Phila 
delphia  North  American. 

"  Mr.  Bennett  is,  in  some  measure,  a  new  man  in  this  section  of  the  universe,  and,  as 
Buch.  our  reading  public  are  bound  to  give  him  a  cordial  greeting,  not  only  for  this,  but 
for  the  sake  of  that  wide-spread  popularity  which  he  has  achieved  in  the  misrhty  West, 
and  more  especially  for  the  intrinsic  excellence  that  distinguishes  his  glowing,  brilliant 
productions,  of  which  '  Clara  Moreland'  may  be  pronounced  the  best." — Philadelphia 
Saturday  Courier. 

'•This  work  is  of  the  most  exciting  character,  and  will  be  enjoyed  by  all  who  have  a 
cultivated  taste." — Baltimore  Sun. 

'•  The  scene  of  this  interesting  Romance  lies  in  Texas  before  or  during  the  late  war 
•with  Mexico.  It  is  written  with  a  great  deal  of  spirit ;  it  abounds  in  stirring  incidents 
and  adventures,  has  a  good  love-plot  interwoven  with  it,  and  is  in  many  respects  a 
faithful  representation  of  Life  in  the  Far  South-West.  Mr.  Bennett  is  destined  to  great 
popularity,  especially  at  the  South  and  West.  His  publisher  has  issued  this  book  in  a 
very  handsome  style." — Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin. 

"  This  is  a  thrilling  story  of  frontier  life,  full  of  incident,  and  graphically  sketched. 
It  is  published  in  a  good  style." — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  This  is  a  spirited  narrative  of  stirring  scenes,  by  Emerson  Bennett.  Those  who  love 
daring  adventure  and  hair-breadth  escapes  will  find  it  an  engaging  book." — Detroit. 
Mich.,  Paper. 

"It  is  a  thrilling  narrative  of  South-Western  adventure,  illustrated  bj  numerous 
engravings."— Detroit,  Mich.,  Paper. 

"It  is  a  wor.drous  story  of  thrilling  adventures  and  hair-breadth  escapes,  the  scene 
of  which  is  laid  in  the  South-West.  The  book  is  illustrated  with  engravings  rep/esent- 
ing  some  of  the  exciting  events  narrated  by  the  writer." — Detroit,  Mich.,  Paper. 

"It  is  a  work  replete  with  stirring  adventure.  Komanoe,  incident,  and  accident,  are 
blended  together  so  as  to  form  a  highly  interesting  work  of  334  pages."— New  York 
Picayune. 

Published  and  for  sale  by  T.  B.  PETERSONT, 

31  No.  103  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 


OR, 


ON    AND    OFF    SOUNDINGS, 


A 


©IF1 


A  NEW  AND   EXaUISITELY   ORIGINAL   WORK. 

Have  you  read  it?    If  not,  then  do  so. 
Price  Fifty  Cents  in  Paper  ;  or  Seventy  Five  Cents  in  Cloth. 

Wild  Oats  Sown  Abroad  is  a  splendid  work.  It  is  the  Private  Journal 
of  a  Gentleman  of  Leisure  and  Education,  and  of  a  highly  cultivated  mind, 
in  making  the  Tour  of  Europe.  It  is  having  a  sale  unprecedented  in  the 
annals  of  literature,  for  nothing  equal  to  it  in  spiciness,  vivacity,  and  real 
scenes  and  observations  in  daily  travel,  has  ever  appeared  from  the  press. 

TABLE  OP  CONTENTS  OF  THIS  EXTRAORDINARY  WORK. 

Opening  the  Journal.  A  View  in  Lyons  Abelard  and  Heloise. 

Adventure  in  search  of  Ruin.  Avignon  —  Petrarch   and    Scenes  on  the  Road. 
Parting  Tribute  to  Love.  Laura. 

Three  Desperate  Days  !  Our  First  Ruin. 


The  "  Tug  of  War." 

"  There  they  are,  by  Jore  1" 


The  Poetry  of  Sea-Sickness.  The  Unconscious  Blessing.     The  Raven-Haired  One  I 


Heaven  and  Hell ! 

The  "  Hamlet"  of  Sculpture. 

The  Modern  Susannah. 


The  Red  Flannel  Night-Cap.  A  Crash  and  s,  Wreck. 

A  Ship  by  Moonlight.  The  Railroad  of  Life. 

Arrival  in  London.  A  Night  Adventure. 

The  Parks  of  London.  "  The  Gods    take    care    of    Hey,  Presto !  Change ! 

Poet's  Corner,  Westminster      Cato."  The  Death  Scene    of  Cleo- 

Abbey.  The  Triumphs  of  Neptune.       patra. 

England's  Monuments.  The  Marquisi's  Foot.  An  Eulogy  on  Tuscany. 

Madame    Tussaud's    Wax    Beauties  of'Naples  Bay.          A  Real  Claude  Sunset. 

Works.  Natural  History  of 'the  Laz-  Tasso  and  Byron. 

The  "Beauties"  of   Hamp-      zaroni.  The  Shocking  Team  I 

ton  Court.  The  True  Venus.  Floatings  in  Venice. 

Love  and  Philosophy.  Love  and  Devotion.  The  Venetian  Girls. 

"  Love's  Labor  Jjoat."  The  Mortality  of  Pompeii.      The  Bell-Crowned  Hat! 

A  Peep  at  "  The  Shades."        Procession  of  the  Host. 
The  Modern  "  Aspasia."          The  Ascent  of  Vesuvius. 
Noble  Plea  for  Matrimony.    The  Mountain  Emetic. 
The  Lily  on  the  Shore.  The  Human  Projectile. 

English  Mother  and  Ameri-  The  City  of  the  Soul. 

can  Daughter.  The  Coup  de  Main. 

The  "  Maid  of  Normandie."    Night  in  the  Coliseum ! 


An  Effecting  Scene. 
'  Paris  est  un  Artist." 
The  Guillotine. 
'Give  us  Another  I" 
Post  Mortem  Reflections. 
Fashionable  Criticism. 


Catholicity  Considered. 
Power  Passing  Aw«y  1 
Byron  Among  the  Ruins. 
A  Gossip  with  the  Artists. 
Speaking  Gems. 
"  Weep  for  Adonis !" 


Whiskey  Punch  and  Logic.    The  Lady  and  the  God. 

'  Shylock  asks  for  Justice!"  The  Science  of  Psalinistry 

"Lorette"  and  "Grisette" 

Kissing  Day. 

The  Tattoo. 

The  Masked  Ball. 

The  Incognita. 


The  "  Lion's  Mouth." 
The  "  Bridge  of  Sighs  I" 
A  Subterranean  Fete ! 
Byron  and  Moore  in  Venice. 
Diana  and  Endymion. 
The  Pinch  of  Snuff. 
The  Rock-Crystal  Coffin  I 
Eccentricity  of  Art. 
Thoughts  in  a  Monastery. 
The  Lake  of  Como. 
Immortal    Drummer  Boy. 
Wit,  and  its  Reward ! 
The  Cold  Bath. 
"  Here  we  are !" 
The  Mountain  Expose. 
The    "Last   Rose  of  Sum- 


"  Sour  Grapes." 

A  Ramble  about  Tivoli.  mor." 

Illumination  of  St.  Peter's.  Waking  the  Echoes. 
The  «•  Niobe  of  Nations."         Watehing  the  Avalanche. 
A  Ghostly  Scene!  A  Beautiful  Incident. 

The  Charms  of  Paris.  "  Iloni  soit  qui  mal  y  pense."  A  Shot  with  the  Long  Bow. 

Changing  Horses.  A  "  Ball"  without  Music.        Mt.  Blanc  and  a  full  stop. 

Price  for  the  complete  work,  in  paper  cover,  Fifty  cents  a  copy  only ;  or 
handsomely  bound  in  muslin,  gilt,  for  Seventy-Five  cents. 

Copies  of  either  edition  of  the  work  will  be  sent  to  any  person  at  all,  to 
any  part  of  the  United  States,  free  of  postage,  on  their  remitting  the  price 
of  the  edition  they  wish,  to  the  publisher,  in  a  letter,  post  paid. 

Published  and  for  Sale  by  T.      B.     PETERSON, 

is  No*  1O2  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 


T.  B.  PETERSON'S 

WHOLESALE  AND  RETAIL 
Cheap  Book,  Magazine,  Newspaper,  Publishing 

and  Bookselling  Establishment,  is  at 
No.   1O2   Chestnut   Street,  Philadelphia. 


T.  B.  PETERSON  has  the  satisfaction  to  announce  to  the  public,  that  he  has  removed 
to  the  new  and  spacious  BROWN  STONE  BUILDING,  NO.  102  CHESTNUT  STREET, 
just  completed  by  the  city  authorities  on  the  Girard  Estate,  known  as  the  most  centra*' 
and  best  situation  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  As  it  is  the  Model  Book  Store  of  the 
Country,  we  will  describe  it :  It  is  the  largest,  most  spacious,  and  best  arranged  Retail 
and  Wholesale  Cheap  Book  and  Publishing  Establishment  in  the  United  States.  It  is 
built,  by  the  Girard  Estate,  of  Connecticut  sand-stone,  in  a  richly  ornamental  style. 
The  whole  front  of  the  lower  story,  except  that  taken  up  by  the  doorway,  is  occupied*  by 
two  large  plate  glass  windows,  a  single  plate  to  each  window,  costing  together  over  threo 
thousand  dollars.  On  entering  and  looking  up,  you  find  above  you  a  ceiling  sixteen 
leet  high ;  while,  on  gazing  before,  you  perceive  a  vista  of  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-Seven 
feet.  The  retail  counters  extend  back  for  eighty  feet,  and,  being  double,  afford  counter- 
room  of  One  Hundred  and  Sixty  feet  in  length.  There  is  also  over  Vhret  T 'housand  feet 
of  shelving  in  the  retail  part  of  the  store  alone.  This  part  is  devoted  to  the  retail  busi 
ness,  and  as  it  is  the  most  spacious  in  the  country,  furnishes  also  the  best  and  largest 
assortment  of  all  kinds  of  books  to  be  found  in  the  country.  It  is  fitted  up  in  the  most 
fuperb  style;  the  shelvings  are  all  painted  in  Florence  white,  with  gilded  cornices  for 
the  book  shelves. 

Behind  the  retail  part  of  the  store,  at  about  ninety  feet  from  the  entrance,  is  th« 
counting-room,  twenty  feet  square,  railed  neatly  off,  and  surmounted  by  a  most  beauti 
ful  dome  of  stained  glass.  In  the  rear  of  this  is  the  wholesale  and  packing  department, 
extending  a  further  distance  of  about  sixty  feet,  with  desks  and  packing  counters  for  the 
establishment,  etc.,  etc.  All  goods  are  received  and  shipped  from  the  back  of  the  store, 
having  a  fine  avenue  on  the  side  of  Girard  Bank  for  the  purpose,  leading  out  to  Third 
Street,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  and  block  up  the  front  of  the  store  on  Chestnut  Street. 
The  cellar,  of  the  entire  depth  of  the  store,  is  filled  with  printed  copies  of  Mr.  Peterson's 
own  publications,  printed  from  his  own  stereotype  plates,  of  which  he  generally  keeps 
on  hand  an  edition  of  a  thousand  each,  making  a  stock,  of  his  own  publications  alone, 
of  over  three  hundred  thousand  volumes,  constantly  on  hand. 

T.  B.  PETERSON  is  warranted  in  saying,  that  he  is  able  to  offer  such  inducements 
to  the  Trade,  and  all  others,  to  favor  him  with  their  orders,  as  cannot  be  excelled  by  any 
book  establishment  in  the  country.  In  proof  of  this,  T.  B.  PETERSON  begs  leave  to 
refer  to  his  great  facilities  of  getting  stock  of  all  kinds,  his  dealing  direct  with  all  the 
Publishing  Houses  in  the  country,  and  also  to  his  own  long  list  of  Publications,  consisting 
of  the  best  and  most  popular  productions  of  the  most  talented  authors  of  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain,  and  to  his  very  extensive  stock,  embracing  every  work,  new  or 
old,  published  in  the  United  States. 

T.  B.  PETERSON  will  be  most  happy  to  supply  all  orders  for  any  books  at  all.  no 
matter  by  whom  published,  in  advance  of  all  others,  and  at  publishers'  lowest  cash 
prices.  He  respectfully  invites  Country  Merchants,  Booksellers,  Pedlars,  Canvassers, 
Agents,  the  Trade,  Strangers  in  the  city,  and  the  public  generally,  to  call  and  examine 
his  extensive  collection  of  cheap  and  standard  publications  of  all  kinds,  comprising  a 
most  magnificent  collection  of  CHEAP  BOOKS,  MAGAZINES,  NOVELS,  STANDARD 
and  POPULAR  WORKS  of  all  kinds,  BIBLES,  PRAYER  BOOKS,  ANNUALS,  GIFT 
BOOKS,  ILLUSTRATED  WORKS,  ALBUMS  and  JUVENILE  WORKS  of  all  kinds, 
GAMES  of  all  kinds,  to  suit  all  ages,  tastes,  etc.,  which  he  is  selling  to  his  customers 
and  the  public  at  much  lower  prices  than  they  can  be  purchased  elsewhere.  Being  lo 
cated  at  No.  102  CHESTNUT  Street,  the  great  thoroughfare  of  the  city,  and  BUYING 
his  stock  outright  in  large  quantities,  and  not  selling  on  commission,  he  can  and  will 
<ell  them  on  such  terms  as  will  defy  all  competition.  Call  and  examine  our  stock,  you 
vill  find  it  to  be  the  best,  largest  and  cheapest  in  the  city;  and  you  will  also  be  sure  to 
tnd  all  the  best,  latest,  popular,  and  cheapest  works  published  in  this  country  or  p'«**- 
*"bere,  for  sale  at  the  lowest  prices. 

JtS£ir  Call  in  person  and  examine  our  stock,  or  send  your  orders  by  mail  direct,  to  <Ju 
CHJfiAP  BOOKSELLING  and  PUBLISHING  ESTABLISHMENT  of 

T.  B.  PETERSOX, 

»1  No.  102  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


FEB   13  1938 


i:j 


FEb  21  19 


1975 


4£& 


i 


, — 


—  .  . 

.    O   i  J 


-_- 


REC'D  L.D 


MAY  15  1958 


fy 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


996807 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


\ 


H 


